#1/2 short drop-in anchors

[ba9go]

it's not winning (if it's not with you)

fluff 🐑🐑🐑 sfw

prohero!bakugou katsuki x prohero!reader, fem!reader (bkg calls u his wife), established relationship

"we’re joined by none other than the pro-hero dynamight, who has recently climbed the ranks to secure the coveted number 2 spot in the hero rankings! known for his explosive quirk and even more explosive personality, bakugou katsuki has—"

"they know who i am," pro-hero dynamight, your husband, grumbles. he's grumpy as ever, arms crossed and glaring at the news anchor, who shrinks away slightly in fear. "keep it short, i've got places to be."

you want to be mad at him for giving his pr team a hard time yet again, but your heart warms at his words. when he says he's got places to be, you know he means coming home to you.

"r- right! so sorry about that! dynamight, you must be ecstatic about climbing the ranks! how does it feel to—"

"always feels good to beat icyhot," he interrupts just as an image of pro-hero shoto pops up on-screen. katsuki flashes a smirk at the camera, and you can't help but grin. "can't say i'm surprised 'bout it, though."

"o- oh! right," the poor news anchor lady laughs nervously. "you must be ecstatic! congratulations on the big win, dyna—"

"nah, i haven't won yet," dynamight shrugs.

"oh. um." the news anchor lady looks like she's about to burst into tears and quit her job on japanese live television. she flashes a worried glance off-camera. you wonder if she's plotting her escape.

you don't blame her, honestly. you're perplexed by katsuki's response too.

katsuki points directly into the camera, and you feel like it's directed at you even before he speaks.

"my wife's gotta catch up to me first."

your grin spreads, and you feel like you're back in u.a., falling in love with katsuki all over again. "challenge accepted, dynamight."

you fling yourself at katsuki when he comes home later that evening.

"number 2!!" you cry happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. "you're the best, 'suki. m'so proud of you."

"thank you, darling," katsuki grins a real toothy grin at you, and you know you're looking at a winner. despite his nonchalant act on tv, katsuki knows he's won. he's dreamt of this for so long. he's ecstatic.

katsuki cups your cheeks and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, before letting his hands fall to your waist. he smirks. "did ya catch my interview earlier?"

katsuki snickers as you roll your eyes and push at his chest playfully. "yeah, yeah. your wife's falling behind on the rankings, got it."

"falling behind?" katsuki's smirk drops as he raises a brow at you. "no, you ain't. you worked hard as always, number 4."

"i'm still behind," you pouted.

katsuki smiles at you as he pats your head affectionately.

"join me in top 3," katsuki says. it sounds like an order, a demand, but despite the challenge in his words, his tone is warm and encouraging, and his eyes are full of love.

you can feel it. he believes in you.

"next time, we'll be number 1 and 2," you grin.

"damn right. izuku can eat our dust."

🐑🐑🐑

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s @deimosjay @iguanahykhv @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @yoyolovesdaiki @busdriver-move-that-ass

[dahliakbs]

Overprotective Batfam making sure you get home safely in their patrol route! (Part 2)

Includes: Jason Todd and Tim Drake

Part 1

Masterlist

Jason Todd

Unlike the others Jason wouldn't walk alongside you or keep to the shadows, instead when he first saw you on his route he slowed down his motorcycle and offered you a quick ride home.

But what you thought would be a quick ride home was instead turned into a wild night you'd never forget.

You could feel the wind hit your face like a bag bricks as Jason continuously revved the engine.

The goons you'd been chasing had mistakenly crossed your path on your ride home, coming out of nowhere with a bag of money strapped to the back of the vehicle and a goon stood to the left of it. Probably protecting what you assumed to be stolen money.

"Um Mr.Redhoid you can put me off here" you'd taoped his shoulder to let him know but he simply ignored your statement and handed you a bloody crowbar.

"Since your here you might as well help me" he said and as soon as you heard those words you felt your soul attempt to leave your body.

Not out of fear of course, was this vigilante really allowing you to attack someone without receiving any repercussions?

You were starting to like this.

"Get the tires" he instructed to which you gladly got in position for.

When you noticed the distance between you and the vehicle closing in you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and lowered yourself towards the the concrete of the road.

Anchoring yourself to his waist before swinging the crowbar above your head and striking the back tire of the vehicle, causing the vehicle to violently swerve off the road and crash into a nearby street light.

You could hear yourself let out a loud scream before an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back onto the seat of the motorcycle.

"Was that a scream of joy or fear?" He quickly came to a stop before turning to face you.

When his eyes landed in your face it was safe to say that he was quite amused. Your pupils were blown wide while your hair was shifted wildly all over you face.

You'd seemed to be in some sort of daze which lasted for the rest of the night. Not even noticing when he dropped you off to your house and left you dazed on your doorstep.

Tim Drake

Honestly he didn't mean to follow you around like that. For some reason he'd found himself getting into the habit of walking you home every evening.

Even when there was something else he was supposed to be doing he still found a way to walk you home every evening and after a while it seems like you found out about his sleep deprivation.

You weren't blind, you could see how the large eyecbags that peeked out from underneath the vigilantes mask. You noticed how he slurred his words when talking or how he'd trip over his own feet when walking beside you.

He was very good at hiding it but after while you started noticing how tired he truly was and even though you wanted to help out in some way you just knew there wasn't anything you could really do.

You tried thinking of ways to help but they'd always lead you back to square one.

You of course picked up on the strong hint of caffeine that always stuck to him like white on rice but you weren't gonna gift him coffee. That would just feed into his problem do instead you came up with a better idea.

You'd start taking short breaks on your way home.

You'd take a seat on any bench you'd see in your way home, the vigilante following closely behind you and seating himself next to you.

Then you'd try and coax him into using your shoulder as a little pillow to try to get some sleep and without much resistance he'd give in and rest his head onto your shoulder.

And even though Tim never actually fell asleep during your little breaks he'd still sit still and allow himself to relax.

At least during those few seconds of peace he could finally relax for the first time in a while.

[animalistic0]

Just One More Moment (Part 2)

Part 1: Here Part 2.5: Here

Plot: As the hunt for the crown narrows down, one more moment is all that is needed. The Pogues and Rafe end up separated and fighting for their lives once again, except this is all or nothing. Life or Death.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, angst, a bit of fluff, guilt, anger, allusions to abuse, mention of kidnapping.

Word Count: 4.8k+

Note: This is getting split into two parts itself before the heavy angst is posted because I keep getting carried away. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something in JC told her everything was going to change. A voice that screamed louder and louder the closer they got to Agapenta. However, she pushed it down and ignored it. Her family was safe and alive, albeit a little run down but still stronger than ever. There had been times when that little voice was wrong, and she refused to allow herself to fall into the darkness that was slowly rising within her. She had watched JJ dance with death before, hell she had danced with death before. There was just something about his recent death dances that raised warning bells, make her skin crawl, and made her panic. She was going to keep him safe, protect him above all costs, that JC vowed.

JC sat next to JJ in the back of jeep, Kiara sitting on her brother’s lap. She was happen for them. She loved their love and was their number one supporter. Kiara brought a type of peace to JJ that he had never had, a peace that he needed and deserved. Not to mention the love she brought, the love JC knew her brother was worthy of even if he struggled to come to that conclusion himself. JC smiled as she watched her family, these were the individuals that mattered the most. Pogues for life and her family. Wherever they went, it was them that was Poguelandia, it was not a place but them as a whole.

As John B pulled the jeep to a stop in front of a well, JC hoped out of the back stretching her legs. She walked over to JJ as she saw him eyeing something and as she saw the bag she felt her stomach drop. It was Groff’s bag. She could feel the anger and hatred bubbling free from the cage she had stuffed it down into, her eyes darkening as she looked around before her ears registered a voice. Her lips pulled back in a snarl as she marched over to the well, ignoring how the Pogues backed up after they heard JJ say it was Groff. As JC peered down the dry well she felt her hands clench into fists. With no hesitation or remorse she wanted to leave him down there with nothing. Even if she knew he would die, it was almost poetic. He had killed their mother and said she drowned, and then attempted to kill her brother in the water, it only made sense that he would die of dehydration and of heat.

As she felt a hand land on her shoulder she met the eyes of her twin, and she could see the hesitation in him. Taking a breath she intertwined their hands, squeezing his hand as an anchor for the both of them. She nodded her head her eyes softening as she looked at her twin, “Whatever you chose baby brother I got you. I’m not going no where.” JC felt like this was his decision, because he had spent more time with the older male and had quickly bonded with Groff in a short time. While JC wanted to kill him or let him die, she knew it was her brother’s choice. JC was not angry when JJ threw down water to the man, she knew he wouldn’t be able to live if he had proved to be exactly like the man.

Their whole lives the twins fought to prove that they were nothing like Luke and now it seemed they needed to prove they were nothing like Groff either. Two fathers, both shitty, and a constant fight to prove to others and themselves that blood or not they weren’t like their fathers. JC was proud of JJ, because he was better than her and would always be better. However, JJ would tell anyone that JC was the better twin. That she was better in every way, and he knew she wasn’t above becoming a villain to others for her family. There was something about the loyalty she had that he wished he had. Not to mention how she always seemed to have a sixth sense about people and situations. JJ thought she was the best, that JC deserved everything and nothing less. That when he looked at her and she held his hand, he couldn’t give Groff the rope.

He couldn’t give Groff the rope not because the older man hurt him, but because Groff hurt both his girls. He knocked Kiara out and locked her up in the ice bucket. Something JJ wish he had known earlier so he could have beat the shit out of Groff. Then when JJ had seen his twins face after they pulled him from the ocean it broke his heart. He had never seen her as distraught as he had in that moment. How appalling she looked. When JJ and Kiara got the bends, JC had been so calm and put together. His sister had soothed and coddled him like a baby the whole way to the hospital, never once crying or showing distress. He had even been told by John B that when he had gotten hit by the machete and was unconscious that JC never lost her cool then either. In fact JJ had always seen JC as unbreakable and tough, having rarely seen his twin ever break down. She was a rock, his rock and the rock of the Pogues. When John B had presumably died, she had cried but held him as he broke down. When nights with Luke were terrible and the twins had to flee for their own safety JC would shed a few tears but check up on him. His sister was the epitome of strength and JJ didn’t like seeing her so hurt. Groff did that and JJ couldn’t let that slide.

JC watched in awe of her brother as he turned his back to the well after throwing down the jug of water to Groff. Her kind and amazing brother, she was proud of him. Always. However, as she heard Groff throw threats towards them, towards JJ she snapped. “Say another word Groff and I’ll kill you right fucking now.” The murder in her tone was promising and she was glad when the evil man shut up. Turning on her heel she walked over to JJ who already had his hand held out. The other Pogues were staring at her but the silence was broken by Pope. “Glad he’s shut up. Was ready to catch another felony for you Maybank’s.” Laughs filled the desert area as JC stepped forward letting go of her twins hand to pull Pope into a tight hug. “Nah, I would have acted first.” JC pulled away and smiled at Cleo before pulling the girl into her hug with Pope. Hugging Cleo and Pope as tight as she could. Before the rest of the group joined in and it was the best but hottest group hug ever.

“Alright, you crazy killers let’s go get our crown!” A bunch of whoops left the groups mouths at John B’s words, and like obedient children they found themselves back in the jeep driving towards Agapenta. Away from the well, and probably one of the most evil individuals they have ever met, Groff. No remorse or hesitation within any of them as they did so. For one doesn’t hurt a Pogue and get away with it, not their family.

JC couldn’t help the gasp of awe as she saw the city beyond the cliff. It was massive and without the map she didn’t know how they’d find the crown. However, as she looked at her friends she knew they would. After everything they’ve been through and done? It would be unlikely for them to not find the treasure, they had a great track record of finding treasure. Keeping the said treasure was another story though. Her eyes met JJ’s and the twins fist bumped each other as they smiled like maniacs. “Let’s get our crown, Pogues for Life!” Cheers left the friends as they repeated their mantra before John B continued driving.

JC hoped out of the back of the vehicle once John B pulled to a stop and turned it off. Announcing that they would do the rest by foot. The group quickly walked along the bushes before JC jumped at the sound of a gunshot. Her eyes narrowed through the bush as she stood next to Sarah. Rafe Cameron stood with the map and the key to read it, in front of the Lupine Corsairs guns pointed at him. Part of JC wanted to leave Rafe, but another part knew they needed him, that she needed to save him. Not just because of the map he held, it was apart of it but because he had saved her life and kept her safe. A debt and loyalty she owed to him. JC turned and looked at Sarah and knew her friend felt just as conflicted, however at the end of the day that was her brother, her blood.

JC slowly connected their hands, smiling supportive at her friend knowing Sarah needed it. Sarah gave a faint smile back and clutched JC’s hand needing the comfort of the other girl. “They’re gonna kill him.” JC turned her head to stare at Cleo with an are you serious look, only to snap her head and glare at Pope as he spoke; “Do we care?” At the same time JJ and JC spoke; “Yeah, that's a good question, Pope.” and “Yes, of course we care Pope.” The twins glared at each other as if silently battling and communicating with each other.

JC rolled her eyes and looked back at Sarah, moving her hands to gently rub her shoulders trying to further soothe the growing distraught girl. Ignoring Cleo and the fact she stated about them taking the scroll if they did kill Rafe. JC leaned over and whispered softly to Sarah, “It’s up to you. Say the word or give the signal and we’ll help him. I’ll save him.” JC smiled as Sarah faced her and nodded before turning back and staring at Rafe as she bit her lip in thought.

“There are seven of them. They all have rifles.” JC rolled her eyes at John B’s obvious analysis of the situation. Biting her tongue to keep herself from saying anything sarcastic. “I know. That's why we're gonna need to think outside the box.” JC watched as JJ pulled the gun from behind him and checked it for bullets. She left Sarah side and moved over to JJ’s other side, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “What are you doing?” JC agreed with John B’s question, because she didn’t want to believe her little brother would be that reckless but then again the Maybank’s were quite known for being ridiculously stupidly reckless. Placing her hand on her brother’s shoulder she wasn’t going to let him do it alone, and together the twins spoke simultaneously; “Diversion.” They glanced at each other, knowingly smirking as they thought of the chaos they could cause together.

“Dudes, you can't be serious. This isn't Call of Duty.” JC rolled her eyes as she pulled a knife she had swiped from her boot, holding it up in triumph. “No it’s not, but our lives have never been normal Pope.” JJ nodded along with his twin before cocking the gun and placing it back in its position behind his back. “We got four rounds, seven of them.” JC rolled her eyes as the others got involved and JJ began trying to explain the plan. “Look four rounds, and a knife. I’d say our odds our pretty good!” JC laughed as JJ nodded towards her before they caught Sarah grabbing the gun and aiming towards the Corsairs. JC held her hands out towards Sarah before she realized what her friend was doing. JC bit her lip as she fought a smile, her eyes watching Sarah closely as she silently cheered her on.

“That’s my brother.” As Sarah spoke and shot the gun, expertly hitting the gas tank and blowing the vehicle up, JC couldn’t help but quietly cheer rushing forward and placing both hands on Sarah’s shoulder. “Oh my god! Way to go Sharpshooter!” The excitement was short lived as they all had to run for their lives. The Corsairs shooting at Rafe and they all ran. JC laughed at Pope as he spoke, “Let’s alert them to our location. That’s a great idea.” Catching up to him she gently punched his shoulder, a wide grin on her face as adrenaline and excitement pumped through her. “Live a little Pope. Being shot at or running for our lives is old news.”

JC laughed louder as she heard Pope curse, running to move next to her twin and as JJ fell she immediately stopped. Wrapping her arms around his forearm and pulling him up, silently communicating with him before they both started running again. JC kept a hand on JJ as they ran, and once he secured his gun again he held her hand, squeezing it tight. The twins found moments like this were where they felt most alive and most aware of shit. Both of them knew it was because of how they were raised and the chaos they grew to love in a deranged and dangerous way. However, if they had each other then they’d be okay.

JC didn’t realize how far they fell behind or how JJ was holding his gun until Pope was yelling for them to hurry up. As they crossed the threshold JJ, Pope, and herself threw themselves against the door as they moved the plank to lock it. Being aware to try and doge the bullets being fired at them. Her eyes connecting with Rafe’s and she wanted to glare at him, to scream at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either. Especially with how disheveled and anxious he looked.

Just as quick as they had stopped they were off running once again, pausing as they ran into some farm area with a bunch of sheep. Pope, Kiara, and John B immediately working to barricade the door. JC looked around, her eyes immediately trying to find and exit or even perhaps any weapons they could utilize. JJ grabbed her hand pulling her as he ran deeper into the shelter of a maze. JC following without hesitation. She slowed to a stop as JJ beckoned the others before he held his side and began groaning. She held his side as he told the others to keep going, her eyes wide with worry for her little brother. Before she met the eyes of Cleo, and she knew her best friend was gonna do something. “Give me the gun!”

JJ immediately questioned it, but JC knew why. She could tell Cleo was protecting them, was fighting for them. Was giving the twins a break and forcing themselves to take a break from always risking themselves. Except JC didn’t like it, she didn’t like the idea of anything happening to her friends and she could tell JJ didn’t either. JC felt like she was dissociating she could hear JJ arguing about not wanting to give it up, could hear Cleo telling the others to go, could hear Cleo telling JJ he was injured and then like clarity Pope pulled JJ and her close. His words reaching through the fog like a lighthouse. “We got it. We’ll hold them off. Let me protect you both for once.”

JC felt her lip wobbled as she stared at her best friends. She didn’t want to lose them, didn’t want to leave them but this wasn’t the time to argue. Quickly she pulled Cleo into a bone crushing hug, ordering her to be careful or so help her. Before she pulled Pope into a desperate and tight hug, telling him the same thing before she let JJ pull her away. Pope’s words ringing in her ears, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Together the twins took one last glance at Pope, the look holding everything they wanted to tell each other before they went separate ways.

JC paused as she caught up with the others, her eyes narrowing as she saw Rafe holding a knife to John B. Her own hand itching towards the knife she had shoved back in her boot, sometime ago. She shared a glance with JJ and then Sarah, holding her hands up as she took a step forward. Her voice soothing and calm as she spoke, “Rafe, it’s okay.” She watched as he glanced at her before Sarah spoke and then the knife was held to her throat. Immediately JC was next to Sarah like a protective dog, her eyebrows raised as she watched him, waiting and almost daring him to make a move. Only for him to keep speaking and turn back to John B. JC tilted her head as she studied Rafe, and she could tell he was on edge, from what she didn’t know because almost dying wasn’t new to any of them. But as Sarah spoke saying she saved his life and Rafe faced her again, JC understood. Her face softening as he spoke, “You did it so you could steal it from me. There was something in it for you. All right? Not to actually help me. I know that.”

JC took a breath and stepped forward, feeling all eyes on her and Rafe facing her with the knife. “We don’t want to steal it Rafe, was there something in it for us absolutely. However, when Sarah saved you her main thought was her brother. We agreed days ago when we left home that we’d work together, an even cut for everyone. For you.” JC offered him a weak but kind smile, as John B and Sarah spoke at the same time. “Rafe, we don’t have time.” and “We can read that. You can’t.” JC cringed as Rafe turned back to Sarah, and spoke angrily. “Why would I help you? Huh? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you. Do you understand? Dad trusted you. You remember what happened to him?! Do you remember?!”

JC watched helplessly, her eyes finding JJ as Rafe raised his voice. She knew, they both knew, where their minds had gone to for a second. JC bit her lip as she turned back to watch Rafe her eyes staying on the knife as she kept herself close to Sarah. “Dad died saving my life. And you’re so eager to blame me for everything, you won’t even listen to what happened. Singh’s men had me at gunpoint. I was gonna die. Dad took those bullets for me. And if he was still around, he’d want us to work together. I know you know that.” JC felt tears well in her eyes as she flashed back to that day, the deep terror she held that they were all gonna die. That she was going to lose her family. Then Ward an unlikely hero who saved them. JC looked back and forth between Rafe and Sarah like a tennis match, watching as tears filled both their eyes and she had hope that maybe one day they could have a good relationship. A true brother sister relationship, like they both deserved.

“No, you’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will.” Rafe’s teary and broken sounding words broke Juniper’s heart. He looked so hurt and betrayed she wanted to pull him into a hug and never let him go. This was the Rafe she had met, had grown to known during their kidnapping. A soft, vulnerable, hurt individual who just wanted someone who was loyal and loved him. It was a constant battle because of his past actions, and then this switched he’d flip and actually be a person. She hoped this was his redemption, this was his will to change and be better, that he could build something new with Sarah and even the Pogues.

“No, no, because I’m all you’ve got. And you’re the only family I have left.” JC moved herself over to JJ and held his hand. Her eyes staring up at him as John B spoke defending Sarah, “She’s telling the truth.” JC watched with bated breath as Rafe nodded before repeating how he’d get his cut before holding out the map. She smiled as Sarah hugged him, as she hugged her own brother both of them smiling at each other before the faint sound of angry voices reached them. “Hey, this is great and all, but we seriously gotta go.” JC stepped away from JJ as they both peered down the hallway. The twins sharing a look as Kiara told them to go.

“Go with them, June. I’ll be fine.” JC shook her head as she stared at JJ. She didn’t want to leave him that was the last thing she wanted to do. But as he pushed her to follow them she relented, pulling him into a tight hug as she kissed his cheek. “Stay safe Bug, please. I’ll see you shortly.” One last hug, and JC turned and ran after Rafe, Sarah, and John B. Leaving behind another friend and her twin. She hated that they were all separated now, but she trusted in them, in that they would see each other again.

JC stopped herself short of running into the back of Rafe. Both of them staring at each other for a moment before trailing after John B and Sarah. Rafe held his hand out, helping JC up the steeper steps they were climbing up and it made her heart flutter every time. Every time John B turned and helped Sarah, Rafe would turn and help her. She didn’t know if he was competing or if he noticed that John B helped Sarah up steeper areas and in returned helped her up steeper areas. JC let out an exaggerated breath as they reached the top. Rafe stoping next to JB and JC next to Sarah. The two girls glancing at each other and smiling. Before Sarah spun confused and lost, “What now?” JC shrugged as she looked around before she glanced at the two males and watched as Rafe lifted his hand gently hitting the map against John B’s chest. “I can’t read this shit. Go for it.” JC smiled as she watched him, before it grew wider as he took the lens off from around his neck and held it out. “Here. You need this. Go.”

JC walked over to Rafe, she wasn’t needed to figure out the map. She knew JB and Sarah would get it done. Hesitantly JC laid her hand on Rafe’s shoulder, a warm smile on her lips as he turned to face her, and as she spoke it was soft and filled with gratitude. “You did good Rafe. Thank you.” She watched as he looked at her hand before trailing down her arm, and then he met her eyes. A rare and soft smiling forming on his lips as he looked at her. Sarah and John B discussing the map in the distance. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean it. I trust you, JC.” Furrowing her brows she looked up at the taller male, confused on why he trusted her above all people. Almost like he could see the questions in her mind he gave a small laugh, grabbing her hand from his shoulder and holding it in both of his. “I hated and despised you with everything, but then Singh happened and you were the only normal and only one I could trust. Then shit with my dad, and you were still the only normal in my life. You aren’t afraid to call my bullshit, to say what you think, to protect those you care for JC. Everything, I’ve told you and confined in you has stayed with you. I trust you.”

JC bit her lip as she stared up at Rafe, wishing for a moment that this wasn’t a treasure hunt, that their lives weren’t in peril once again. Because selfishly she wanted just a moment more in this bubble, with Rafe’s sweet words, his finger rubbing circles on her hand, his eyes soft and caring as they stared into her soul and beyond. Letting her lip go, she took a breath before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. Pulling back she brought her other hand over and squeezed his hands. “I’ll admit I hated you Rafe, and a part of me still hates your actions. However, I would never have survived Singh if not for you and I’m forever grateful and thankful for that. I can’t explain it, but that bonded us together Rafe. I trust you, but I need you to be kinder to my friends, my family.” JC giggled as Rafe nodded his head quickly before promising he would, that he would work on it, that he would be better.

And then their bubble was interrupted. JC looked over as John B was calling for them, her eyes widening as she moved over to where he stood with the map in the air. “What the fuck?” It was the best thing she could think to say, as a shadow of a shape appeared on the map. “What the hell is that?” JC shrugged as she turned around her eyes widening as she saw the same outline on the map right behind them, except it was real and a stone statue. “See what I’m seeing?” JC knew JB had also connected it and as Rafe turned around and saw the statue they both spoke simultaneously and the same words “Holy Shit.”

They did it! They found the crown. Of course they would, JC had no doubt because they always found the treasure. She just couldn’t stop the negative thoughts creeping in because something would go wrong, it always did. “The crown has gotta be up there. Come on, let’s go.” JC nodded as she heard Rafe walk a few steps away, her eyes on the statue as she wished the others were here. They all deserved to be here and basking in this glory. It drained from her as Rafe spoke again, trying to get their attention. JC turned around, her mouth opening in shock and disbelief of their luck as Rafe spoke making dread flow through her; “Sandstorm.” JC kicked a rock, anger cursing through her veins as she threw up her hands, “Fuck you universe! Fuck you.” Taking a breath she lowered her goggles and wrapped her scarf around her mouth and nose, protecting herself from the oncoming sand. Just like that, they were off running once again. A race against time, something they were all familiar with.

“Come on. Hurry. We’ve gotta try to get up there before the storm hits.” JC rolled her eyes, once again annoyed with her best friend’s ability to point out the obvious. “No shit Sherlock. I thought we were gonna wait for the storm.” As John B glanced back at her, she mumbled a low apology. Tensions were high and she didn’t need to take it out on her friends, but something was eating away at her. As if a warning was sounding off and something really bad was coming. JC let out a startled gasp as her brother’s voice sounded from behind her; “John B. JC. Hey! Do you see what’s coming?”

JC turned and pulled him into a hug, ignoring everything because she needed him. He was safe, and alive and right there in front of her. Pulling away they instinctively intertwined their hands, the twins rarely liked physical affection or contact but with each other it was one of their main love languages. As JJ asked if they had any idea on where to look for the crown, JC smiled and lifted his chin so he was staring up at the statue. “Right in front of us baby brother.”

Her smile faded as John B said they needed to climb and JJ immediately looked like he was preparing himself. No, she wasn’t going to let him climb up the statue not with his injury. Not when she was there. Before anyone could say or do anything else a strong gust of wind hit and sand was filling the air like fog. The sandstorm had reached them. JC didn’t like the odds of this, didn’t like how it was impossible to see much less breathe even with her scarf protecting her. She felt her stomach drop as Rafe spoke, “Hey, I’m gonna go scope it out, all right? I’ll meet you all up there!” Then just like that he was gone, and she couldn’t see him anymore. Her hand squeezed tighter on JJ, scared she’d lose him too.

Then once again, the group was splitting up. JC knew they couldn’t leave Rafe, not because they couldn’t trust him but because he would need help. Bending down she grabbed her knife from her boot, grabbing John B’s hand and pressing it into his palm. Her hands wrapping around his. “Protect Sarah, and protect yourself. Stay safe, and we’ll see you with the crown.” She watched as they ran off, before she turned and followed after JJ and Kiara. Praying nothing would happen to any of them.

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Initiation

Woe, backstory be upon yee

Mild Egghead Island spoilers (I'm talking like, episode 2 of the anime arc, super early)

WC: ~13k (sorry, I promise they won't usually be this long!)

Day 0

You were already exhausted by the time you made it to the secluded back end of the island where the Victoria Punk was anchored. It wasn't docked since there was no dock in the area, just anchored a little ways off shore as close as the pirates could get it without running it into the sand bank, but several small dinghy were pulled up on the sandy shore waiting for the pirates to use. Even from the beach though, you could judge the size and style of the ship, appreciating what looked like a large dinosaur skull mounted at the front in lieu of a figurehead, the matching rib bones lining the sides and the large black flag that hung from the main mast, painted with a jolly roger that resembled Kid. Humble.

Several trips back and forth had already been made with the supplies looted from the marine compound, the ship bursting at the seams with loot. With the last of it finally set on the boats, the pirates began pulling them out to the water, paddles in hand to make the short trip to the main ship.

You weren't exactly keen on being tied to the mast of the ship for a week, but you figured it was better than some of the hazing you'd heard other pirates go through, and it sure beat the various cold dark cells you'd spent the last several years in. Considering you were a woman, about to board a ship full of men, it could always be much, much worse. You'd managed to at least down four (and a half, you still mourned your dropped one) apples and a banana you'd scavenged from some of the crates being moved after the battle, getting as much food in as you could on the walk to the ship. It at least meant you had a small reset to work with after being near starved for longer than you could recall. It was only a week you'd be starved at the mast, barely anything compared to what you’d been through, and once it was over, you would be free.

You'd spent most of your life under the firm, possessive thumb of the world government, moved from marine base to marine base, constantly under the guidance of abusers who got a kick out of controlling someone they knew to be more powerful than themselves. It boosted their ego, even if you were a scrawny woman - they knew the power you held, and it swelled their pride to dominate you. They never really cared about you as a person, only your ability to kill, and when you'd failed to become the obedient dog they wanted you’d been discarded without a second thought. You knew Kid was the same, the only leverage you had with him was as a weapon, but at the very least he had promised not to touch you, and you’d put yourself in a strong position right from the get go to prove to him that you weren't to be messed with. It was a fresh start for you, you would finally have a taste of freedom, away from the people who had beaten and abused you.

The fact that it came under the guise of being a pirate was no bother to you - you enjoyed killing, but you were also undoubtedly lazy. If you followed the Kid Pirates you could kill all you wanted without having to deal with the repercussions or figuring out how to escape on your own, and you'd have the added benefit of a protective buffer between you and the marines who would no doubt come looking for you when they learned of your escape. This crew had a reputation for being bloodthirsty and ruthless, and they knew what you could do, so you knew you would find no judgment here. And if pirates were known for anything, it was hating the marines and the world government, a sentiment you wholeheartedly shared. You would fit right in here.

As you approached the water's edge you adjusted the dial on your helmet, the visor shifting from a dark purple to a more vibrant, richer blue. You scanned the ocean with your eyes, now able to see under the dark waves with your enhanced vision, and once you were happy with the lack of seakings visible you shifted it back to the purple. Killer quirked an eyebrow at you, not that you could see it under his mask, watching you with curiosity before returning his attention to pulling the boat nearest to your group out to the water. He made a mental note to ask you about the mask's functions later.

Once the dinghy was floating in the water, the last stragglers of the crew began to jump in, and you hesitantly waded into the water behind them, feeling yourself grow weaker as the water raised above your knees and soaked the ends of your marine issue shorts, before Kid, growing impatient, grabbed you under the arms and lifted you into the small boat. You made a small huff but settled yourself on the thin seat between him and Killer. You were somewhat squished between the large men, it was just as well you were skinny, and you leaned forward to ensure your mask would not be damaged as they began to row away from the shore.

It was funny, as you watched the marine base sink away from view, you wondered how long you had even been here. Well, not here specifically, you knew you'd only been at this base a few weeks. More like, how long you'd been a prisoner. It was hard to tell the passing of time when you'd spent so much time in windowless cells, when they never consistently gave you meals, and with the lack of nutrition even your period was inconsistent, so that was no help in keeping track of time either. The commodore having you brought to his office was the only real signifier of time passed that you had to go off, guessing he probably sent for you every couple of days, sometimes more often.

They usually moved you between bases on a monthly basis, but sometimes it seemed like you spent only weeks at a base, sometimes multiple months. It'd been so long since they discarded you that you weren't even sure how old you were anymore. If you had to guess, you'd say 25, but really you didn't know for sure. You weren't even sure when your birthday was, you'd been really young when you got your devil fruit and it had destroyed any cognitive power you had for a long time.

The boat you were on was the last to pull up alongside the Victoria Punk, with the other ones already in the process of being unloaded and hauled up to the deck for storage. You had no intention of climbing the rope ladder that had been thrown down, given your arms were currently so weak, so you stood and quickly moon stepped the short distance up to the main deck. Exhausted, you laid down and sprawled out on the wooden surface like a starfish, taking advantage of the ability to lay flat while it lasted before you were inevitably tied to the mast, enjoying the warm sunlight you had been so direly missing. At least that was one advantage to being tied to the mast, you hadn't had fresh air in so long that you probably would have spent the next few nights out on the deck by choice anyway. you were looking forward to seeing the stars.

A shadow loomed over you, and you grumbled at the sudden lack of warmth as you opened your eyes. Kid was standing over your head, upside down from your point of view, looking down at you with an annoying smirk on his painted lips. You let out a deep sigh and sat up, before standing with a huff and walking to the main mast. You didn't have to be told, you knew what was coming. You slid down against it, landing on your ass with a pout as one of the commanders, Heat, you recognized from his bounty poster, brought over a heavy reel of thick rope.

Most of the crew watched with curiosity as Heat tied you to the mast, wrapping the rope around you and the thick wooden pole several times, pinning your torso and arms against it before knotting it well out of your reach. The crew knew well what that meant, that you were on trial to become a new crewmate, and you would be there for seven days just as they all had. If you were just a prisoner you would have been taken straight to the brig, and definitely bound with seastone. If you were a guest, you'd likely have been taken straight to Kid's room. The fact that you put up no fight also made it obvious that this was by choice. They'd never inducted a woman before and an excited, slightly confused buzz of conversation arose from the crew as they watched you wiggle, testing the limitations of your restraints, before finally settling in and stilling.

“Seven days, little one,” Kid told you, crouching so his face was close to yours. He gave you a smug grin, and you returned it with your own playful smile, ready and willing for what would be an easy ordeal for you. He knew it too, given it was clear you were used to being starved, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest of his crew if he didn't at least put on a show of initiating you, and it would ultimately help you earn the respect of his crew. Before standing upright again he unhooked the holster from your thigh, pocketing the dagger. You growled a warning at him when his touch lingered on your skin, before he smirked and finally stood.

“See you in seven days then, Captain,” you yawned, squirming a little to get comfortable then closing your eyes, resting your head back against the mast to sleep. You were desperate for a nap after using what little strength you had left on your Meteor Wave, and it's not like there was anything else for you to do now that you were tied to the mast. You had all the time in the world to take in your surroundings and eye up the crew, for now what you wanted was some rest.

“Alright pussies,” Kid announced to his crew, standing tall and proud after a successful day, to which they all silenced their gossiping and turned to attention, “this here is Yin. She's the reason we came to this island, and will be a powerful asset for us in the future. She's agreed to join the crew, under some annoying conditions, but I don't want to hear a single complaint about it from you assholes. She's worth the strength of a thousand men, so you will treat her with respect. And under no circumstances will you touch her without her permission. Keep your tiny dicks in your pants or I'll cut them off and feed ‘em to you. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a murmur of aye aye captain’s before Kid dismissed them to finish their preparations to leave the island. There were still a few tasks left for him to do, like checking what his crew had looted and getting the report on how many men were injured or killed during the battle. You were already deep asleep by the time the anchor was raised, long since fallen victim to your exhaustion. Kid and Killer watched you sleep from a distance, a million questions in their heads, but most of all both confused that; one, this scrawny, irritating thing was the powerful weapon they'd been hunting for, and; two, this outwardly innocent, sweet looking girl was sleeping without a care in the world, like you weren't tied to the mast of the notorious Kid Pirate's ship, and like they hadn't just watched you massacre hundreds of strong men and laugh about it. Not to mention the commodore, that was a whole other bag of worms.

They of course realized you had some sort of devil fruit, and they could guess by your tattered marine uniform that you had at some point been a government dog, but the fact that they'd found you half starved in a dark cell raised a multitude of questions. The government had been careful to move you often, likely to keep you from people like Kid, but you had clearly been discarded by them at some point. Their best guess was that the fruit itself was too dangerous to bring back into circulation, so they'd kept you alive to keep that power from becoming available to anyone else. Killer was also sure that ‘Yin’ wasn't your real name, but that didn't seem of much consequence right now. He guessed you must be close to his age, though it was hard to tell under the layers of grime and blood, your cheeks and eye sockets hollowed from being emaciated.

Neither of them brought up what you'd done to them after the battle, and as soon as it seemed like it had been long enough to not raise suspicions from the crew, they both left the deck to retreat to their rooms, anxious to shower and change into clean clothes.

Day 1

You slept for what you assumed was likely around fifteen hours, it seemed like it was about late afternoon the next day when you were woken by a splash of water on your bare thigh. A cabin boy startled near you as he noticed your head raising, apologising profusely and scampering away with his bucket and mop before you could even register what had happened. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, thankful for the tinting effect of your visor in the bright afternoon sun.

It didn't take long for you to notice the masked blonde sitting across from you, resting against a wall with crossed arms and crossed legs, watching you carefully. You cocked your head at him, and he stood, closing the space between you with just a few long strides, and standing over you. The ominous looming was probably supposed to be intimidating, but you couldn't help but blush at the fact that you were eye level with his dick. You did your best to crane your head to look up at him anyway.

“The captain has some questions for you,” he said plainly. His long blonde hair flitted gently in the wind behind him, and you wondered how a pirate kept so much hair so well maintained.

“Okay…” you mumbled blearily, looking around and noticing a distinct lack of said captain, “is he going to ask them then or…?”

“He's busy,” Killer snapped, “so I'll be asking them”

“Yesh, okay mister grumpy-mask,” you grumbled, pulling up your legs so they were crossed in front of you, “go ahead then”

Killer looked away for a moment to catch the eye of a passing henchman, giving him a quick nod that the man clearly understood. The henchman quickly brought over a chair, positioning it a metre or so in front of you before scurrying away. Killer took a seat and leant back on the chair, crossing his arms and scanning you with his eyes.

“What sort of devil fruit do you have?” was his first question. You weren't surprised, it seemed like the most obvious question.

“Ah, straight into the complicated questions,” you sighed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain it, “it's called the wave-wave fruit. As in, wavelengths. Not like… ocean waves. It's more microscopic than that. How much do you know about physics?”

“Some, enough probably, what sort of wavelengths?” he asked.

“All of them, I think,” you replied, a little confused at your own answer, and quickly working on rephrasing it, “I mean everything I know of that's measured in wavelengths I've been able to manipulate to some degree. Some are harder than others, but I have some control nonetheless. Vibrations are easiest, I can use them at a smaller scale, like molecules, speeding up or slowing the vibrations to increase or decrease temperature. Or at a larger scale, like what you saw me do on the battlefield, creating shockwaves of vibrations”

“And that's what you did to the commodore? Heated and cooled him?” Killer inquired, starting to piece things together.

“His blood, specifically, but yeah. The wall I used to keep us clean was also vibrations, it wasn't actually solid, it's just that the air was vibrating so fast that nothing could get past it. Like a really strong wind.”

Killer nodded, stroking the scruffy goatee that poked out from under his mask. “Okay, so what else? You said there were others.”

“Yeah, the others I don't use as much because they're either more difficult or not as useful. Sound is easy, I can replicate sounds with relative ease. Single sounds like replicating a lone instrument or a voice or animal call are easier than replicating a whole song. Light is tricky but doable. Every colour you see is a different wavelength of light, so by manipulating the wavelength I can change the colours. Not super useful but it makes for a fun lightshow when I'm drunk. Before I was locked up I was working on using it to create mirages of myself, but it's early days for sure.”

To emphasize your point you closed your eyes in concentration, and a life sized version of you appeared in the space between you and Killer. It was faint, and wobbling, like a broken hologram. You weren't able to hold it for long before you let out a heavy exhale and the clone disappeared.

“The last thing I know I can control is electromagnetic waves, but I can only do it at a very small scale,” you continued, “it's enough to manipulate the electricity that sends messages through a person's nerves, but not enough to power anything or manipulate the magnetism of an object”

“Is that… what you did to Kid and I?” Killer asked, under his breath so as not to let any curious henchmen hear.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “sorry about that, but it was in self defence”

Killer made a low grumble under his mask, not offering up any sort of forgiveness in exchange for your apology. At least now he understood what you'd done, it put him slightly more at ease. Not that he was happy about his nerves being messed with. You yawned and rolled your head to stretch out your stiff neck, the questioning was starting to grate at you. Using your fruit to create a mirage when you were already so weak was probably not the smartest thing you’d ever done.

“Is that it? I'm tired,” you grumbled.

“One more and I'll leave you be for now,” he said, leaning forward to examine her closer, “what's with the mask?”

You chuckled to yourself, not at all surprised by the question considering his own mask. “What's with yours?” you retorted.

He sat in silence, unwavering and unimpressed. You rolled your eyes and huffed, it was clear you weren't getting an answer today, so you'd just have to continue making up your own theories about it. Given the state of Kid's horribly scarred face, your best guess right now was that he was unbelievably mangled under the mask. Blown up by a grenade or something. Maybe he didn't even have a nose. You wrinkled your own nose at the thought before deciding to answer his question, if anything to pull your mind away from imagining what awful features he had under his mask.

“Like I said earlier, I can manipulate light and sound,” you started your explanation, pausing for a moment as he sat back in his chair and resumed his previous position, “unfortunately I can also see and hear a larger spectrum because of it. You know how they say mantis shrimp can see more colours than we can? It's like that, I've got shrimp colours. And sounds I guess. Well not shrimp sounds but… you know what I mean. Anyway it sounds fucking cool, but I can tell you right now that constantly being able to hear every atom moving and being able to see everyone's bones and organs is not cool, and I can't control it on my own. It's a default setting that I can't seem to manipulate, and it's extremely overwhelming. If I spend more than a few minutes without the mask I usually have a panic attack. The mask filters it all out so I just see and hear what a normal person would. I can adjust it though, to tune in to different levels of the sound or light spectrum, for example if I need to see if someone has a broken bone, or hear a different frequency.”

“That's why you carried the seastone cuffs after killing the commodore? To mute the ability?”

“Exactly. Seastone deactivates devil fruits, as I assume you know, so I can use it to stop myself from becoming overwhelmed when I don't have the mask. Obviously though, seastone also makes me weak and tired. It's why I'm inseparable from my mask. I'm guessing you understand better than anyone what it means to me,” you said, scanning his striped mask with your pupil-less eyes.

“Hmmph,” he replied neutrally, standing from the chair and dragging it till it rested against a wall, “that'll do for now then, but there's more questions we'd like to ask tomorrow”

“Mmm,” you replied, straightening your legs out and shifting in your spot to get comfortable again. Your arms would have gone to sleep long ago if you hadn't been using your devil fruit to keep the blood flowing in them, “I'm guessing the captain wants to know what intel I have on the marines and world government. You can tell him I'm more than happy to share with him everything I know about those cunts, I have no love or loyalty for them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or whatever it is they say.”

“Right,” he replied, a little taken aback that you were so willing to part with information without even being prompted. ‘They must have really done a number on her’ he thought to himself, “He'll be happy to hear that. I'll have someone bring you water, and I'll be back with more questions tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Massacre Soldier,” you said in her best obedient subordinate voice, before closing your eyes to nap.

“It's Killer,” he replied with a huff, walking away.

Day 2

You woke up at what must have been the middle of the night. It was clear out, the stars were in full display, but you hadn't noticed them yet due to the fact that you were full on hyperventilating after a particularly graphic dream. You'd think someone who enjoyed violence as much as you wouldn't experience bad dreams, but there were other kinds of horrors from your past that plagued you and often woke you in a panic. You went through the familiar motions of calming yourself; five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can smell… Eventually your breathing started to even out and the world came back into view. It was then you noticed the vibrations of the warm body above you. If you concentrated enough you could make out the vague shape, and it was clear they were watching you from the crow's nest above. On night watch, presumably, and distracted by your very audible panic attack.

“You can stop gawking at me now, Killer,” you mumbled without turning to look at him, stretching your legs back out from the fetal position you'd subconsciously pulled them into. The distinct difference in vibrations around his mask made it easy to tell who was watching you.

“You good?” he asked, trying to hide the genuine concern in his voice but you picked up on its subtlety, and it annoyed you to no end. You weren't some feeble thing, and you wondered if he was only treating you with kindness because you were a woman. You had no doubt it was going to be a common struggle aboard the Victoria Punk.

“Just peachy, so fuck off,” you huffed. There was a quiet shifting of fabric as he turned away to give you privacy, returning to watching the still horizon and the small, calm clouds that were settled over it.

Resigning yourself to ignoring him, and titling your eyes to the sky you finally noticed the dazzling scattering of twinkling stars, too far from any island to be hindered by light pollution. Your mask may have had a purple tint, but it didn't apply to your vision like it would if you were wearing sunglasses. Sure, it kept the sun from being too bright by filtering out some of its harsher light waves, but other than that it was a mere filter, allowing you to see the way a normal person would, maybe even slightly better than a normal person. For you, it was no different to wearing clear prescription glasses.

You were certainly far from colourblind, having seen a much wider spectrum of colours than any other person, you could pick up the subtle differences between colours like nobody else could. The faint yellows, blues and reds of the faraway stars were clear to you, each star being a different colour depending on how hot they were. You knew other people could tell the difference, but you could pick out the smallest changes, you could probably guess the exact temperature of each star if you tried based on the colour.

You could also see planets in far more detail than the normal human eye, picking out the quiet blues and warm browns of the different planets that were close enough and in the right position to see. To the naked eye they would have been simple sparkles hidden between the stars. They were still tiny, but the colours were clear to you.

You admired the full display of nature's majesty with wide eyes. It had been years since you'd seen the stars. You would have liked to adjust your mask to see the ultraviolet light, to see the beautiful blues and purples radiating off distant galaxies, but your arms were firmly pinned to the mast. You sighed, deciding to continue stargazing anyway, reminding yourself that you would have all the time in the world to look at the stars under every spectrum of light imaginable as soon as you were done with your time on the mast.

At some point you fell back asleep, lulled by the soft rocking of the ship and Killer's quiet rhythmic breathing above you.

You grumbled and pulled your leg away as someone kicked it, wishing you could rub the sore spot the kick had left but unable to reach with your arms tied. You opened your eyes to find Killer standing over you once again, his leg pulled back to repeat the kick if you didn't wake up. He wasn't doing it hard enough to properly injure, but enough that it'd no doubt leave a bruise on someone like you. Before he could swing you stopped his foot with your own, crossing one leg over the other to press your black, standard issue marine boots against his ankle.

“What the fuck Killer?” you spat, pushing his leg away before returning your foot to the ground, bent at the knee so you could quickly raise it again if you had to.

“About fucking time, fuck you sleep like the dead,” he replied, pulling the chair from yesterday back towards you, leaving it a little further away to account for your stretched out leg before sitting, “and you snore worse than most of the men here.” It was a lie, but he felt like seeing if he could get a rise out of you.

“I do the fuck NOT,” you yelled, trying to slide down in your restraints so you could reach him with your foot to kick him, which resulted in your leg flapping awkwardly in the air mere inches away from him while you made little grunts of excursion. He couldn't help but smile under his mask, you really could be childish, it was amusing, and he would definitely find more ways to rile you up in the future. You could have full well used your devil fruit to maim or kill him, but it was clear you weren't going to hurt him. Finally you gave up and let your leg fall to the wooden deck with a heavy ‘thunk’ and a pout on the only visible part of your face.

“What do you want, Killer?” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“We have more questions,” he replied.

“Of course you do, couldn't it wait till I was awake though?” you grumbled.

“It's almost noon, you've slept more than enough,” he replied in a bored tone.

You looked around, a little confused. Had you really slept that long? The men around you were bustling around, already several hours deep into their various chores, the occasional curious glance thrown your way. You turned back to Killer with a sigh, “Fine, what does our apparently very busy captain want to know today?”

“You knew I was watching you last night, do you have haki?”

“Armament, yes. It's strong, by normal standards, though I barely use it. I'm guessing you're asking specifically about observation haki though. I don't, I can just sense vibrations around me because of my devil fruit. If I concentrate enough I can make out the contours of people, see their faces and expressions, sense if their heart is beating faster if they're lying. Which by the way, I know I don't snore, and you're a filthy liar.��� you gave him a coy smile, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning away from you. His heart was racing, and it didn't take a psychic to figure out why.

“I can't see your face,” you reassured softly. His head snapped in your direction and he was starting to wonder if you could read minds, “your mask is solid metal, it's blocking a lot of the vibrations and making them bounce back. All I can sense under it is a blur. It would be the same if I used my mask functions, metal is a good insulator against a lot of types of wavelengths, so it's a bit of a weak spot for me”

His heart rate lowered slightly, his own observation haki telling him you weren't lying about your ability. He cleared his throat, a little flustered that you'd read him and his insecurities so easily.

“Our intel tells us you have ties to Vegapunk,” he said, trying to move the conversation along, “we assumed the weapon, you I guess, were built by him but obviously that's not the case, so where is that information coming from?”

“Oh, that would be the mask,” you explained, “I spent a short while on Egghead Island with a few of his satellites while they ran tests on my fruit and manufactured the mask. As much as the government wanted me to be their weapon, I was useless before the mask. Like I told you yesterday, it's overwhelming. I was always on the edge of a panic attack, struggling to navigate the world. I had to be practically guided everywhere and spoon fed because I was seeing straight through everything, I would always walk into shit and over or under reach for things because I couldn't make out surfaces. Not to mention the sounds. I may as well have been deaf because I couldn't pick out voices between everything else. I was an anxious, over-stimulated mess and completely useless as a weapon, as a person even, so they commissioned Vegapunk to make the mask to help me control it. I often had bouts of being completely feral before the mask, when my brain would finally snap and go completely instinctual just to have any sort of control. A lot of people have bite shaped scars from me”

“What the fuck is a satellite,” Killer asked. Your answer had raised many more questions, but that one confused him the most.

“Ah, kind of a complicated question,” you mused, “they're… Vegapunk? But not? I'm not sure how to explain it. He like, split his personality up into clones or some shit. They don't look like him though, or what I've seen of pictures of him anyway. I've never actually met him”

“Right, okay,” Killer did not at all understand but he figured it didn't really matter anyway, he had more important questions to ask, “how long were you a marine?”

“Another complicated question,” you groaned, “you just love those don't you? Can't you just ask me my favourite colour or something?”

There was an awkward silence while he waited for you to answer the question, before you groaned again and relented. “Finnneeee. And it's yellow, by the way. Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Long version, I've got all day,” he replied.

“Alright then,” you shrugged, or as best you could in the restraints anyway, “it's not like I'm going anywhere. I ate my devil fruit when I was about four. Daddy dearest was never in the picture, it was just me and my mother, so I was left alone for long bouts during the day while she worked, that was when I found it. Obviously it fucked me up, my mum came home one day to find me completely out of it, screaming, feral. She didn't know it was a devil fruit, obviously, so she took me to the hospital. Doctors took months to realise it was a devil fruit and put a seastone cuff on me, but not before I blew a nurse's brains out in my panic. Life went relatively back to normal for a while till the government caught wind of me. Mum kept me hidden away, given what I'd done to the nurse, but kept her eye out for a way to get me off the island so we could start fresh somewhere else. Eventually she was able to save enough money to buy us passage to another island, but the ship was attacked by slavers during the journey.”

You paused for a moment, watching a news coo fly overhead and drop the daily newspaper, something you hadn't seen in a very long time, before continuing on with your story. “I was about six when I was sent to a slave house on Sabaody. The government had tracked my movements and were quick to buy me, and I haven't seen my mother since. They sent me to the marines to be secretly trained, only a select few knew about me. I think the plan was to make me a CP agent, they seemed pretty set on training me for some sort of elite team. Physical training was going fine, I learnt how to fight and how to shoot and how to be stealthy, but every time they took the seastone off though I'd go straight back to being out of control, and eventually they gave up on me. At some point they started abusing me, since I wasn't good for anything else. It was just inappropriate touches at first, and then… well. I'm sure you can put two and two together.” Killer’s mask moved to point away from you, clearly unnerved with the topic, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably before continuing.

“Anyway the government wasn't happy about my lack of progress controlling my fruit, so they shipped me off to Egghead in the hopes that Vegapunk could ‘fix’ me. I had two beautiful, abuse-free years on that island while they made the mask and helped me learn to control my fruit, before the government pulled me back to hell. I spent the next four years training, honing in on my devil fruit, learning haki and moon stepping, learning advanced combat. I was a quick learner, so they put me in active service when I turned sixteen, when it was no longer suspicious for me to be in the marines. I did what they asked like an obedient dog, for a while,, but then they stuck me with a commodore who liked to play with pretty things. The more he abused me, the more I lashed out on the battlefield. At some point I started enjoying killing, using it as an outlet for my anger, and the more blood thirsty I became the less they could control me. Eventually I started killing marines and civilians, so they benched me. They couldn't let my fruit go back in rotation though, so they just kept moving me from base to base to keep me hidden. I must have been twenty when they benched me. I'm not sure how long it's been since then, years definitely, but I'm not sure. Anyway that's it, that's the full story”

It was a lot for Killer to process. Your shit past was somehow worse than his, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for you. He'd been young the first time he killed, but four years old? That was a lot for a kid to carry, not to mention being raped for the first time before even hitting puberty, and so many times since. It was no wonder you were so fucked up, why you laughed so maniacally after killing the commodore, why you enjoyed killing as much as Killer did. He wondered if you'd been branded at the slave house, or when the last time someone had treated you as a human was.

With a heavy exhale he stood, dragging the chair back to the wall without a word, and decided to leave it be for now.

“What, that's it? No snide remarks about being a warm hole or some shit?” you spat. It was clear you were angry, residual anger not really directed at him but at your memories. It sent a shiver down his spine to hear you imply that it was a common occurrence for men to just call you a ‘warm hole’.

“I'll have someone bring your water, we're done for now,” he said flatly as he walked away. You huffed in outward annoyance, but inwardly you wished he hadn't left, so you didn't have to be alone with your own thoughts.

Day 3

Day three was of not much note. You watched the crew do their chores, trying to overhear their names as they talked so you could figure out who was who. Usually around midday some nervous cabin boy would bring you a single glass of water, shaking as he held it to your lips, but to your surprise today it was brought by someone else. Heat knelt in front of you, holding up the glass of water.

“No cabin boy today?” you mused.

“They're scared of you,” he laughed, holding the glass to your mouth so you could drink. You chugged the water greedily, one glass a day was nowhere near enough under the constant sunlight, “apparently they heard about what you did at the marine base, so I offered to bring you your water instead of having to smell them pissing their pants”

You laughed as you swallowed the last bit of water, almost choking on it. “You good?” Heat asked, his eyes were soft with concern but it didn't seem to annoy you as much as it had when Killer had shown sympathy.

“Yeah,” you coughed, “wrong pipe. Anyway, that's fucking hilarious. Cabin boys are just pups, I wouldn't hurt them”

“Yeah good luck convincing them of that, pussies the lot of them,” he laughed, putting down the glass and sitting on the deck in front of you. His pale blue hair billowed in the wind behind him, a tone not too far from your own lilac coloured hair. His face was covered in stitch-like scars that ran from his mouth over his cheeks and his body was lined with tattoos that looked like barbed vines that wrapped around his neck and over his arms, you traced them with your eyes.

“I like your tattoos,” you mused.

“Thanks,” he smiled, somehow still looking sad at the same time, “you got any?”

“Not any by choice,” you frowned, “just a marines tattoo, it's more like a tag of ownership really. And a slave mark, if you can count that”

“We can get them covered, if you want,” he offered, “well I don't think you can tattoo over scars actually, but the marine tat we could cover”

“You think we can turn it into a set of tits?” you gave him a coy smile.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he laughed, standing up, “I should probably go, we're not supposed to talk to you till initiation is done, but I think you're going to fit right in here”

“Thanks Heat,” you replied softly, glad to have had some genuine company, if only for a short while.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as soon as he left. You didn't want to show weakness in front of Heat but a sharp pain was beginning to form in your gut, assumedly from hunger. It didn't feel like your normal hunger pains but then again, you weren't usually tied to a mast. You'd only asked to use the bathroom once since getting here, maybe you were constipated or something. Not that the source of the pain mattered, you still had another four days to go before you were released and you doubted they'd allow you any painkillers till it was over, so you just pulled your knees in as close as you could to put pressure on the dull pain.

Day 4

It was almost noon when Heat came out to the deck to bring you your water. You'd been quiet, as always, save for a few questions Killer had for you about the marines. You'd spent most of the last 24 hours with your knees up at your chest, your head buried between them as the sharp pain continued to grow in your gut.

Heat was in a good mood today, he had high hopes for you as a new crewmate. His conversation with you yesterday had been short, but you were pleasant to talk to, had no problem making crude jokes, and by your work on the battlefield it was clear you were bloodthirsty. You would fit right in here. Three more days, then he could properly get to know you. Not to mention that Kid had said the crew just couldn't touch you ‘without your consent’, that wasn't a full ban, right? If he played his cards right maybe he could score himself a girlfriend. The thought of not having to wait between islands to get laid made him near giddy. Kid hadn't bothered to talk to you since you'd come on board, Killer didn't seem to have any interest outside of the questions he was tasked with asking you, and Wire certainly couldn't care less. The henchmen would probably try their luck, but Heat knew they were far beneath a woman of your calibre. That left you wide open for him to try his hand at wooing you, so he was setting himself up to always try his best to be nice to you. Of course, he preferred women with a little more plush to them, with soft curves and tummies and breasts he could practically sink into, and you were basically a walking bag of bones, but he wondered if in time, with proper nutrition, whether you'd fill out. It didn't make a whole load of difference at the end of the day though, a thin woman was still a better companion than ol’ righty.

He almost dropped the glass he was carrying when he spotted you though, his grin quickly wiped from his face. Your knees were at your chin, as they had been since yesterday, and between your legs was a small puddle of blood, your navy coloured uniform shorts clearly darkened with it. Without hesitation he spun on his heel and ran for the navigation room, where he knew he'd find Kid and Killer.

The two of them were indeed there, along with Wire, scouring over maps of the nearby islands and comparing them to the log pose, trying to figure out their next move now that they were done with the months of run around you had given them. Their heads all shot up as the door flung open, a flustered Heat standing in the doorway, glass of water still in hand (though somewhat empty now, given most of it had spilt out in his hurry).

“What the fucks got your panties in a twist?” Kid grumbled, settling down the map he'd been holding.

“The girl, she's bleeding,” he huffed out between heavy breaths.

Killer was the first to move, shoving Heat out of the doorway so he could pass him, making long, fast strides to the mast where you were bound. Kid followed quickly after, already jumping to conclusions and feeling a rage brewing. The only way in his mind that you could be bleeding is if someone had attacked you, and he would torture everyone on this ship to find out who touched his new toy.

The stampede of heavy footsteps, which slightly vibrated the deck under you, woke you from your nap. You groaned a little, stretching your legs out in front of you, your knees clicking a little at the motion. The pain in your gut had definitely increased since you'd fallen asleep a few hours ago, and you wondered how much worse it was going to get. Any more and you wouldn't be able to keep up the brave face anymore. Your eyes widened in confusion as you watched Kid, Killer and the other commanders racing towards you, and you ran a montage through your mind of everything that you'd done and said since coming aboard to try and figure out what you'd done wrong to piss them off.

“Uh, hello boys?” you offered as they came to an abrupt stop in front of you.

“Heat, where's the blood?” Kid scowled, as far as he could see, you were perfectly fine.

“Uh, under her ass,” Heat replied sheepishly, hoping the others wouldn't take notice of the fact that it meant he'd been looking at your ass.

You lifted your knees in confusion and spread them, trying to look down as best you could with the restraints to see what Heat had seen. Your groin was dark with blood, and a small puddle had formed underneath you. The cogs in your brain immediately clicked into place and you groaned at the inconvenient timing.

“Relax, it's just my period,” you told them, closing your legs again, a little embarrassed. The statement only seemed to anger Kid more.

“Why the fuck would you do that now?” he growled and pointed at the blood with an accusing finger, “you're getting your gross fucking pussy blood on my deck.”

You blinked slowly and looked at Killer, thus far it was clear he was the brains of the operation, definitely not the captain who was entirely brawn, and brawn only. “He's not serious, right?”

Killer ran a hand down his mask and groaned. Kid could be smart sometimes, in his own way, but fuck could he also be dumb as hell, especially when it came to women. Kid knew where to stick his dick, and that was about the limits of his knowledge.

“She didn't do it on purpose,” Killer offered, trying to calm his captain down.

“Like hell she didn't,” he spat back.

“Women don't choose when their period happens, it just happens,” Killer tried to explain with a heavy sigh.

“Well, really, most healthy women know when to expect it, but I haven't had enough nutrition to keep it regular. I really didn't expect it, sorry,” you were trying your best to not be ashamed of this entirely natural thing, and laid your legs back down to hide the blood from Kid who was still staring at you with a confused frown.

“Can't you just hold it in or something at least?” Kid asked with a scowl.

“Not really how it works,” you sighed, “its gonna continue till my entire uterus lining is shed”

“I'm not even going to ask what the fuck you mean by that,” Kid knew a ‘uterus’ was for making babies, right? What kind of fucking horror show was this shit? You had to shed it? The whole lining? What the fuck.

“Do you need something for it?” Killer asked you.

“She's not getting shit. Besides, we don't have any of that girly shit on board,” Kid cut in before you could answer. You groaned and wished you could reach your face so you could pinch the base of your nose, with the headache that was quickly forming.

“Look, you have three options,” you said plainly, “one - you leave me here, I continue bleeding on to the deck, the blood goes rancid, I start to stink like a dead fish, then I get an infection and die. Very cool. Two - you provide me clean, dry rags and let me switch them out every four hours until we reach land, because it's going to take at least another five days to be done. Or three - you let me have a longer bathroom break, I use my devil fruit to hurry it up, I have a quick shower to clean up, and everyone goes on like nothing happened”

Kid scowled, his hands on his hips, staring down at you. His body was casting a shadow over you, and you shivered a little at the lack of warm sunlight - definitely not at how big and intimidating he was from this angle. He thought about the options, but it was clear which one was the most convenient.

“Killer, take her to your bathroom, don't let her out of your sight,” he huffed, before turning and stomping away. Wire followed him, having quickly lost interest, and Heat gave you a sympathetic smile before leaving as well. Killer quickly scanned the small crowd of henchmen and cabin boys that had stopped their chores to watch the commotion, one look from Killer was all it took to clear them off.

Without a word he knelt at the back of the mast, untying the thick ropes that held you. You used the mast to support yourself as you stood, careful to avoid stepping in the blood your unexpectedly heavy flow had left, it wasn't really that much but it would be gross to step in anyway. You ran vibrations through your body to loosen up your stiff joints, stretching your arms out above your head and rolling your sore shoulders with small popping sounds. You looked down at the blood with a flush, then back at Killer, who was quick to notice your embarrassment. He grabbed the collar of a passing cabin boy, who squeaked at the sudden forcefulness.

“Oi, clean this up,” he told the boy, pointing at the blood, before letting him go with a small shove and watching the boy scurry away to find a mop. On the bright side, the Kid Pirates were probably experts at getting blood out of the deck, given their profession. It was probably the first thing new cabin boys were taught.

Killer turned and walked away, annoyed that it was his bathroom being sacrificed, but he wasn't going to go against the captain's orders. At least he knew his room was clean, as it always was. He always kept his room tidy with militant level spotlessness, you could probably eat off any surface in his room. He took great pride in it.

You took the hint and followed close behind him, not sure what to say but thankful you would get your first shower in months. You hadn't had a tour of the ship yet, so you had no choice but to follow behind him, having no idea where the bathroom even was. You hoped they had hot water on this ship but you weren't about to get picky.

You were expecting a grody communal bathroom, something with one of those shower rooms without separations and toilet cubicles with questionable stains on the seats, so you were certainly surprised when you were led to a large, private bedroom. In the middle was a king sized bed, made up with navy sheets and royal blue blankets and pillowcases, the matching set embossed with a diamond pattern that was more matte compared to the shine of the base fabric. A lush, navy, fluffy blanket ran over the end of the bed, folded to form a tidy, decorative strip like something out of a magazine. The bed frame looked to be made out of a dark, ebony wood, and the headboard was ornately engraved with what looked like a battle scene, with the endboard similarly engraved to match. On either side sat a heavy looking side table with matching wood - all of the furniture in the room looked like part of the same, probably very expensive, set.

Hanging on the wall on either side of the bed were brass, antique looking lamps with sharp details that looked like they could injure you if you fell against them. Further out from the lamps were small porthole windows, one on either side of the bed, framed with short, navy, velvet curtains on brass rods. The room also had a large wardrobe to one side, and a short, wide set of drawers on the other, all with brass knobs that matched the side tables. Above the dresser hung an oval mirror, trimmed with an ornate brass frame that matched the lamps. The mirror was cracked and missing shards, like someone had punched it. It seemed out of place in an otherwise immaculately tidy room.

The walls of the room were painted in a calm, pale blue, the lower half shiplapped with dark wood, and on one wall, beside the wardrobe, hung several antique weapons, ranging from katanas to scimitars to daggers, all beautifully crafted and well maintained. There were no other signs of personalization in the room - no trinkets, books, stray laundry - it felt like a hotel room, not somewhere that was lived in full time. Above all, it was not what you expected to find on a pirate ship.

After several moments of gawking from the doorway, Killer gave you a shove further into the room, slamming the door behind the two of you. He strode across the room, opening a door beside the dresser, before sitting on the edge of the bed facing the open door, his arms crossed in displeasure.

“Bathroom is in there, towels under the sink,” he nodded towards the door, “hurry the fuck up, I haven't got all day”

You walked past him hesitantly, into the simple bathroom, and started to close the door, only to be met with an annoyed tut from Killer.

“Door stays open,” he told you flatly.

“Oh come onnnn,” you moaned, “you're really going to sit there and watch me? What kind of fucked up pervert are you?”

“Captain's orders,” he replied with a shrug, “he told me not to take my eyes off you, so that's what I'm doing. Don't make it weird”

“You're the one making it weird,” you mumbled, sliding off your boots, shorts and blood soaked panties down. They were nothing fancy, just boring, standard issue tightey-whiteys. You threw your jacket over the sink and sat down on the toilet the wrong way round, facing the wall, and set a hand to your stomach.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Killer grumbled, “did those marine pigs not teach you how to use a toilet?”

“Mind your business, asshole,” you grumbled, shimmying a little to get comfortable on the seat, “I'm about to strip the lining of an organ, something that should take days, in only a few minutes. Sometimes I pass out from the pain, and I'd rather not go face first into the tile.”

Killer certainly shut the fuck up at your unexpected reply, watching you with anxious concern now. There was an audible vibration as you used your devil fruit, and the trickling of blood hitting the toilet water as your uterus lining began to dislodge. You groaned in pain, white knuckling the toilet tank. Under your mask tears were starting to stream, dripping down your face and landing on the long sleeve of your shirt where you were supporting your weight on the tank. You tried your best not to scream, but it felt like you were being ripped in half as you forcibly shed the lining and contracted your muscles to push it out. Several minutes had passed, interrupted by the occasional heavy splash in the toilet as larger clots of blood exited you, before finally you gave one last grunt and a large splash below announced the bulk of your uterus lining landing in the toilet.

Immediately you passed out, the visor of your mask hitting the wall hard, and Killer rushed to keep you upright as your body began to slide sideways. There was still a quiet trickling below you, and out of morbid curiosity he looked down past your ass into the toilet. It was a bloodbath, scattered with thicker chunks that would have made a normal man gag. He couldn't help but feel sad for you that you had to force yourself to do that. He wondered how many times you'd done it before, you knew you’d pass out so clearly this wasn't your first time.

When he was sure your body was stable against the toilet, he turned away and started to run the bath, one arm still reaching towards you in case you started slipping again. There was no way he was about to let you shower when you'd just passed out, the risk of it happening again and you getting injured in the process was too high, you'd be safer in a bath, even if it wasn't part of the deal. You still weren't awake when he felt the water was deep enough to submerge your lower half, so he lifted you from the toilet and set you down in the water, your shirt getting wet in the process. He wondered whether he should start washing you, but that felt like an intrusion, so he let you be, holding you upright so you wouldn't slip into the water and drown.

Slowly, after five or so minutes, you finally came to. You weren't sure what surprised you more, the fact that you were in a bath, or Killer's arms firmly around you. You gently pushed him away, confused and embarrassed. He stood up quickly, flustered at his own impulsive actions, and grabbed a towel and hand cloth from under the sink, throwing the hand cloth at you unceremoniously and hanging the towel on the hook next to the bath before quickly leaving, closing the door behind him. Not the whole way, but enough to give you privacy.

As soon as you regained your wits you pulled off your shirt, careful to avoid pulling off your mask, and sunk into the water. You would give yourself just a few moments to compose your thoughts before you set yourself to cleaning. You looked around, observing the simple bathroom. It was entirely set with white, from the floors to the walls to the furnishings. There was a simple toilet, a cabinet sink with a mirror above it, not smashed this time, and the combination bath-shower you were currently sitting in, which was deep and wider than a normal tub to accommodate a large body. The only signs that a person used this room were the single toothbrush and toothpaste sitting in a clear, blue glass cup on the sink, and the inset shelf next to the tub, which contained various toiletries.

Careful to not take too long, lest you be dragged out, you carefully cleaned yourself with the handcloth, using a small amount of the body wash that sat perfectly straightened on the shelf next to the bath. The water quickly turned pink as the blood was shifted from your skin, and you took care to pay special attention to between your legs. There would be a few spots of blood left, but not more than what a small wad of toilet paper in your underwear could handle. You were glad too for the warm water which served to soothe your sore abdomen.

Once you were done you pulled the plug, running the water for a moment to wash away any clots of blood that threatened to remain, pushing the swirling water around with your foot. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around you, avoiding the mirror, and trying to decide what to do about dressing. Your pants and underwear were a no-go, there was no way you were putting those back on, and your shirt was soaked from the tub. Only your socks and boots were really usable. You cleared your throat hesitantly to get Killer's attention.

“Killer?” you paused, “can I um.. could I borrow a shirt? And maybe some underwear? Briefs, preferably”

Killer kicked himself for not being more prepared - of course you needed a change of clothes, you couldn't just go back to sitting around in your own blood for another three days. He grumbled and rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of black briefs. He scowled at the idea of you wearing his underwear, but it was better than leaving you exposed on a ship full of men. You were standing in the doorway, wrapped in the towel, when he turned back to you. He shoved the clothes into your arms, pushing you back into the bathroom before sitting back on the bed awkwardly. ‘Fuck Kid and his stupid fucking orders’ he huffed to himself.

You quickly dressed - the shirt was extremely oversized on you, just as you had hoped, it was basically a dress. The briefs barely stayed up, but they would do to hold the small wad of neatly folded toilet paper against your center. You bundled up your wet, dirty clothes in your arms, not sure what to do with them, before exiting the bathroom.

Killer stood as you entered, observing how his shirt came midway down your calves. Till now you'd been fairly covered, but now he noticed how thin your arms and legs were, and the gentle scattering of lilac freckles that covered them, matching your hair. On your left arm, barely visible below the sleeve of the oversized shirt, was a marines tattoo. It was clear too that your wrists bore now healing rings of injury from your many years wearing seastone cuffs. They looked red and tender, but thankfully not infected.

“Um, I'm not sure what to do with these,” you said quietly, interrupting his silent examination of you.

“Give em here,” he said, taking them from you, “we'll burn them when you're done with your initiation, its tradition for ex-marines who become pirates”

“Oh, okay,” you replied, a little hopeful. Burning them sounded cathartic. Fun, even. There was a short, awkward silence before Killer cleared his throat.

“Back to the mast, then,” he said, dumping the clothes in a laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom and walking back out to where the main deck was. You followed obediently, albeit still a little sore from what you'd just done, but it was better than drawing it out or dealing with it while you were still tied to the mast.

Day 5

By the time your bathroom break came around the next day, your period was more than over with, the last few straggler drops flushed down the toilet with the wad of toilet paper you’d kept in your briefs. Well, Killer's briefs. The weather so far had been warm and pleasant, but not overly hot, since the calm spring weather from the marine base island had extended most of the way into the journey so far. Today though, the winds were shifting, turning cooler and harsher as they entered the radius of an autumn island. In hindsight, not asking Killer for pants was probably a mistake, but it was too late now. Your legs were bare to the wind, and you did your best to hold down the oversized shirt with your pinned hands to keep the wandering eyes of the crew from seeing too much. You weren’t usually shy, but the near constant attention was starting to become a bit much, and you were feeling a lot like a piece of meat dangling on a string in front of a pack of hungry wolves. You hoped the next island was close so the men could vent their frustrations on land instead of gawking at you.

Heat brought you water around noon as always, apologising profusely for overreacting yesterday. His concern was sweet, he genuinely thought you’d been hurt and it was nice to feel cared for, you couldn’t remember the last time someone had given a shit about you being hurt. Heat seemed like a nice guy, past that perpetually sad exterior, someone you could grow to trust here, definitely. Maybe even a friend. That would be nice, you hadn’t had friends since Egghead Island. You rubbed your nose against the soft, thick collar of your puffy jacket. Atlas, one of Vegapunk’s satellites, had gotten you the jacket as a leaving gift; it was one of your only possessions, one of the few things in this world you cared about. Somehow, even after all this time, it still looked and felt like new - one of the Vegapunk wonders, you guessed. You were especially thankful for it now as the wind began to chill you to the bone. You could use your devil fruit to warm yourself, but you were conserving your energy for now, since it looked like it was going to rain soon, and you’d need your limited energy more to shield yourself from it. For now, you would grin and bear it, watching the dark clouds slowly growing on the horizon ahead.

Day 6

As predicted, it began to bucket down shortly before sunrise. Killer was woken up by the thunderous sound of hail pelting against his windows, and sat up with a tired grumble, running a hand through his messy blonde bangs. It was cold, even by his standards, and he worried about you out on the deck in nothing but a thin shirt and a jacket. You were a scrawny thing, the cold probably ran right through you. Fair was fair though, you’d been warned you wouldn’t be released from the mast if a storm hit, but he wondered how mad Kid would be if his new toy died of hypothermia. With a sigh he stood up, pulling a spare blanket from the wardrobe. It was a thick wool, scratchy to the touch, but it would act as a decent barrier against the wet weather, given wool's natural hydrophobic properties. He threw on a jacket and his mask before heading out, pulling up the hood to keep the water from trickling in the holes of his mask, he fucking hated when that happened.

He wasn’t surprised to find you awake on the deck, he doubted anyone could sleep in these conditions, but he was surprised to find you completely dry. Shivering from the cold, but shielded by a small protective wall of vibrations, forming what looked like an invisible umbrella over you. You looked tired, the bags under your eyes were dark and deep, you were putting all of what little energy you had into keeping yourself dry. Your head perked up as he approached, walking slightly bent to try and keep the blanket and himself dry at the near horizontal rain.

Neither of you said a word as he looped the blanket over your shoulders, covering your head to form a makeshift hood and letting the rest pool over your front to protect your exposed legs, which were pulled up to your chest in an effort to keep yourself warm. You released the shield with a heavy exhale, nuzzling your head into the blanket and getting comfortable as your shivering finally started to come under control. The blanket was extremely insulating, and you used what tiny energy you had left to warm yourself up a little before trying to fall asleep, exhausted from using your powers for the last several hours. Content that you would be dry and warm enough, he let you be, hoping Kid wouldn’t be too mad at him in the morning when he discovered the blanket.

The rain and hail lasted the better part of the day, but thanks to the thick wool you stayed safe and dry, cocooned in the blanket. It smelled a little like musk and something spicy, a cinnamon scented shampoo maybe, and you wondered if it was Killer’s scent you were smelling on the fabric. Kid was quick to take it away as soon as the rain stopped, but otherwise didn’t reprimand Killer - he was right, Kid would be pissed if his new toy had died from exposure.

Day 7

You were downright giddy when Heat didn’t come to you with a glass of water on the seventh day, instead coming with empty hands to untie you. You squirmed excitedly as he worked at the tight knots, and when they finally released you immediately sprung up, then just as quickly fell back down, face planting right into the deck.

“Fuck, calm down girl, freedom ain’t going anywhere,” Heat laughed, pulling you up to your feet.

“Sorry,” you grinned, rubbing your sore nose under the mask where it had collided with the visor, “just excited. It's been a long time since I had any free will”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Heat smiled as he hooked your arm around his, leading you like an old fashioned gentleman would, “come on, lets get some food in you, then I’ll give you the tour”

“I thought Kid would be the one to release me, or Killer even,” you mused.

“Usually with a new crewmate Kid would, but we’re due to reach land with a town tomorrow,” he explained, “everyone's busy finalising plans and stock lists”

“Not you though?” you asked curiously. He was a commander after all, surely he was privy to important plan making.

“Nah,” he laughed, poking you in the side playfully, “I get to skip school to hang out with your cute ass”

“Oh, you think I’m cute do you?” you giggled, skipping ahead and posing, sticking your non-existent butt out a little and holding a finger to your chin in a coy fashion.

“You’d be cuter if you weren’t so damn skinny,” he replied, motioning to you body. You pouted and came back to his side, hooking your arm back around his and letting him lead again. “You’re nothing but skin and bones, those marine cunts really fed you crumbs huh?”

“Yeah, crumbs would be too much by their standards,” you frowned.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he promised, holding open the galley door for you and letting you pass him, before hooking your arm again and leading you over to where the henchmen on cooking duty had spread out the lunch options, “Kid keeps us well fed, you can’t maintain muscle without decent intake. Grab whatever you want”

He handed you a metal tray and grabbed his own, sliding it along the cafeteria style tray slide and grabbing several items. You observed the spread with hungry eyes, your mouth almost watering, before picking out a bowl of a hearty looking stew, several slices of thick bread, and a small slice of chocolate cake. Towards the end of the tray slide was a fridge with glass doors, and he pulled out two beers, offering one to you. You gave a little enthusiastic nod and he placed it on your tray before picking up both his tray and yours and carrying them to a slightly raised area. It was almost like a stage, with a single heavy mahogany table sitting across it, perpendicular to the rest of the room, surrounded by three matching chairs on either long side, and one particularly throne-like chair at one end facing the bulk of the room. The stage was awkwardly empty on either side of the table, with just a few decorative standing candelabras on it, made of delicate swirls of black metal. The rest of the galley had plain, utilitarian metal tables with attached benches, with henchmen and cabin boys spread out across them in small cliques as they ate. It seemed like the raised table was for the top dogs, and Heat placed your tray down to the left of the throne.

“Kid wants you to sit here for your meals, don’t forget it,” he told you, placing his tray down next to yours and sitting to eat. You slid into your assigned seat and started shovelling food into your face in what could only be described as an extremely unladylike fashion, and Heat laughed to himself as he watched you tear the bread and dip it in the stew, using it like a spoon, before letting out a somewhat impressive burp that had the rest of the room turn and stare in surprise. ‘Yeah, she’ll fit right in here’ he thought to himself in amusement.

You were on your second tray of food when Kid, Killer and Wire finally arrived. Kid settled into his throne, and Killer sat at his right hand, directly across from you. A henchman hurriedly placed trays of food in front of each of them, while Wire served himself and sat down next to Killer. You didn’t slow down your eating when they arrived, and they watched you with morbid fascination as you tore into a drumstick of thick meat, the juices splashing on your visor, before chugging half a bottle of beer and slamming it down, going straight back to the meat. You took notice though of Killer’s straw in his drink, and the way he cut his food into small portions so he could slide them under his mask, surprised that he didn't remove the mask even for meals.

When you were full and content, your second set of plates practically licked clean, you leaned back against your chair and sighed sleepily, patting your bloated tummy. Kid watched you with an amused smile as he ripped into his own drumstick of meat, his sharp canines making quick work of it.

“Feel better?” he laughed. You replied with a bleary nod and a quiet, happy hum.

“We’re hitting land tomorrow, Heat will take you in to town to grab whatever you need to get yourself setup here,” Kid told you, switching from his meat to his beer, “we’ll have a bonfire tomorrow night for you to burn your shit”

“Yay, shopping date with Heat!” you yelled, smacking him over the shoulder with surprising strength.

“Alright, don’t go too fucking crazy,” Kid grumbled, “whatever you spend is coming out of your share of future loot, I’m not your sugar daddy”

“That’s a shame,” you toyed, “I would have made such a good sugar baby”

Heat almost choked on his drink and started hitting himself in the chest with a closed fist to clear the blockage, and Kid shot him an unimpressed look. “I think Heat wants the position,” Wire noted.

“I’m sure Heat wants plenty of positions,” Kid laughed. To his surprise, you laughed too at the crude joke, which only made Kid laugh harder since it was all at Heat’s expense. The man in question was now blushing a bright pink, and doing his best to hide under his long blue hair.

“Aw, don’t pick on my poor, sweet Heat,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around Heat’s shoulders and nuzzling him, which only made him flush redder, “besides, he’s the only lucky one who's going to get me help pick out panties. Though I do take requests. A red lace number for you, Captain? Something blue for Killer? Maybe a classy chocolate brown set for Wire? What do you think Heat, what colour panties will suit me best? Ohh I could get a mixed pack of granny knickers for the henchmen!”

Kid was fully roaring with laughter now, and even Killer’s shoulders were moving up and down with a silent chuckle as they all laughed at Heat’s bright red face.

“Man, if I’d known a chick would be Heat’s weakness I would have brought one on board ages ago” Kid barked.

“Alright, very funny, are you done eating?” Heat huffed, pointing at your empty tray, “I have shit to do after showing you around”

“Aww Heatie baby don’t be like that,” you purred, standing up and giving him a hug around the shoulders from behind, shaking him side to side, which he allowed like a ragdoll, “come give me your grand tour then”

Heat grumbled and stood up, and you, still hugging him around the shoulders, committed to the bit and dangled down his back. He was significantly taller than you, so you were far from touching the floor. He shrugged his shoulders a few times to try and get you off, but when you didn't budge he decided to just accept his fate, stacking the empty plates and cutlery from your tray on top of his and carrying the collective pile to the serving counter for the cabin boys to clean. You barely weighed anything, so for Heat it was like wearing a backpack full of feathers. Kid continued to roar with laughter as the two of you left, giggling as you continued to dangle, half hidden against Heat's long blue hair, while Wire shouted at the two of you to use protection.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[amazingmsme]

Restless ‘Til We Reach Home

Suffering So Endless (ch. 4)

AN: this one’s been locked & loaded for around 2 months, I’ve been keeping it in my back pocket cause I had a feeling there’d be another saga announcement & lo & behold here we are! Happy Halloween & happy vengeance saga release day! This might just be my favorite chapter so far, & I have big plans for what lays ahead! I’d been looking forward to writing this chapter ever since thunder saga, & I’m so excited to finally share it with y’all!

WARNINGS: unlike the previous chapters & my usual works, this chapter is fairly heavy. Trigger warnings for hallucinations, gore, body mutilation, possession & body horror. So again, happy Halloween!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5

Things were good. They were as good as they could be, given the circumstances. Most of the crew still avoided him, but that was okay. Odysseus finally accepted him, and that was all he really wanted.

He was much nicer than he had been, but Polites wouldn't go as far as to say he was being nice. Oh he was definitely kinder when addressing him, but he was nothing but bossy and dismissive to the rest of the crew. But he knew better than to call him out on it; he'd only just gotten back on his good side. Let Eurylochus handle it.

Eurylochus... didn't handle it. He was just as irritable as Odysseus, yet he seemed more on edge than usual.

"Hey there," Polites announced his presence as he floated up through the floor on his way to the upper deck. "Sorry, didn't mean to come through your room. I'm still trying to get used to these short cuts."

Eurylochus sat frozen at the foot of his bed, gripping the laces of his sandals tightly, relaxing as the initial fright began to fade. "It's alright. You know you're always welcomed to drop by."

"Thanks," he chirped, drifting closer. "So how've you been? You seem, I don't know, anxious."

Eurylochus heaved a deep, heavy sigh before he collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands.

"Are you alright? Eurylochus?" he called his name when he didn't respond to his question. Then, his shoulders began to shake, as if he were crying. Wait, he was crying.

"I did something awful, Polites."

He rushed over to sit beside him on his bed, and even though he wasn't fully there, the thin mattress still bowed beneath his "weight."

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad."

Eurylochus shook his head frantically. "No, no you don't understand. We were almost home, none of this would've happened, it's all my fault," he confessed in a rush.

"Whoa, slow down. What do you mean you were almost home? I know it can feel that way, but I promise it's not."

"It is," Eurylochus wheezed in between sobs. He took a deep, stabilizing breath and began to explain. "After the cyclops, we were plagued with a storm the likes of which we'd never seen. We'd been fighting it for so long, and we finally reached the eye of the storm. As the clouds began to part, we could make out an island in the sky. We managed to anchor to it with some harpoons, and Odysseus went up to bargain with Aeolus." Polites listened on quietly, his brows knit together with a mix of concern, disappointment, and most confusingly, understanding.

He continued, "When he came back, the sky was clear and he held a large burlap sack. It looked heavy, so we asked what was inside, hoping it was something valuable. He snapped at us, warning that the bag held the storm. "It must remain closed at all times," he had said. We all thought he had gone mad. Truth be told, I don't know if anyone believed him. We were all blinded by greed and curiosity. No one thought the bag could actually hold the storm..."

"Oh Eurylochus, don't tell me you-"

He cut him off with a solum nod. "He didn't let that bag out of his sight for over a week. We were so close to home, we could see it on the horizon. But, Odysseus finally drifted off to sleep and I..." he trailed off, his head hung low. "I took the bag and looked inside."

Polites was shocked. He expected this kind of behavior from some of the other crew members, but Eurylochus? Calm, obedient, reasonable Eurylochus?

"Why didn't I just wait until we were home?"

"You didn't know," Polites said for his sake as much as his own.

"I betrayed him, and it cost us everything."

"So, I'm guessing you... haven't told him?"

He deflated at the question, staring at the floor. "No. I tried once, back on Circe's island, but... he was busy. He said whatever it was could wait. And, well, there hasn't really been a good time to do it since."

"There's never gonna be a good time to tell him."

"I know. But there is such a thing as a bad time, you know."

"I know," he said gently. When he didn't answer, Polites took his hand in his and gave it a comforting, reassuring squeeze. "Hey. You can't hide it forever." Eurylochus let out a sarcastic snort at that.

"Thanks, I wasn't planning to, smart ass," he teased, hoping to lift his own mood. It only halfway worked.

"Hey, I'm just saying what you're thinking," he quipped back. Eurylochus sighed, but it didn't sound as heavy as before.

"Thanks for that," he nodded. "For everything, honestly."

Polites offered a warm smile. "Of course! Anytime, okay?"

Eurylochus returned it with a half smile of his own. "Okay."

~~~

At this rate, they were never going to reach home. Any direct path on the open water was blocked by impassable storms and tidal waves, curtesy of the Sea God himself. They were forced to tread shallow waters and dodge massive rocks, taking every overlooked detour that might help them to evade Poseidon's watchful eye.

A thick fog rolled in, settling just above the choppy surface of the water lapping at the ship's hull. The fog continued to spread before them, concealing any obstacles in their path until they are dangerously close.

The men below deck rowed slow and steady, careful of the rocks on either side of the ship. The closed sails whipped and snapped against the mast as the wind caught the fabric. Odysseus steered the ship while Eurylochus stood on the look out for any incoming rocks.

A large shape took form in the distance, concealed by the fog. Eurylochus yelled for him to turn right, but as they grew closer, he realized what lay ahead.

"Captain! It's a ship!"

Odysseus grabbed the nearest soldier and handed them the wheel, making his way over to his first mate.

"What?"

"There, look," he pointed. Odysseus squinted as the large ship finally emerged from the mist. It rested on the surface, dangerously close to the rocks protruding from the water. Atop the deck, there were no signs of any life.

Odysseus held up a hand, stopping him from speaking further. "Something's off. This doesn't feel right."

"I agree, Sir. What do you suppose we do?" he asked genuinely. Odysseus shrugged.

"Come with me. We'll board the ship, and take what we need. It doesn't look like there's any survivors, but it doesn't hurt to check."

"No, no harm in looking," he agreed, purposefully avoiding his gaze. Odysseus didn't seem to notice.

"Polites? Polites, you there?"

It only took a moment before he appeared in front of them.

"Yeah, you need something?" he asked curiously. He caught Eurylochus looking his way before he turned back to look at the water.

"You're in charge of the ship while we're gone. Eurylochus, gear up. You and I are gonna check it out," Odysseus ordered. He stood up straight, giving a curt nod.

"Yes Sir." Eurylochus rushed off to grab his sword and armor, leaving the two of them alone.

"What's going on?" Polites asked, following the captain's line of sight.

"There's a ship by those rocks, but something doesn't feel right," Odysseus said, not taking his eyes off of it for even a second.

"Then is it a good idea to check it out?" he questioned, brows furrowed.

"We won't get answers if we don't look for them. Besides, there could still be someone left on that ship."

Polites smiled softly. "You have a good heart, Odysseus." He snorted in amusement at the comment, and Polites smacked the back of his head on instinct. "Don't laugh, I'm serious!"

Odysseus grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head even though it didn't hurt. "Yeah well, I'm glad someone still thinks so." Polites placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze.

"It's the truth," he insisted.

Odysseus heaved a sigh, "If you say so."

Footsteps approached from behind, and they both turned to see Eurylochus returning. He wore his battle armor, save for his helmet, and his large sword was slung over his shoulder.

They grabbed a long plank, connecting the two ships. The crew had gathered on the upper deck, curious as to what was happening. Uneasy whispers murmured throughout the crowd.

"Alright everyone, we'll be back soon. Now, get back to work." When no one moved, he repeated himself louder, "I said get back to work!" That seemed to do the trick, and the crew dispersed amongst themselves.

"Be safe you two. And don't do anything stupid," Polites bid them farewell, chuckling at his own joke alongside Eurylochus.

"With this one? No promises," he said, shooting a wink.

"Okay smart ass," Odysseus rolled his eyes, grabbing Eurylochus by the arm and dragging him off. He looked back over his shoulder at Polites, and gave a solum nod.

His breath hitched and he returned the gesture, saying a silent prayer for the both of them.

~~~

Odysseus lead the way as they walked across the narrow plank between the ships. Dark, choppy water splashed against jagged rocks below, spelling certain doom if one were to slip.

He made it to the deck and jumped off, waiting for Eurylochus to follow suit. He landed with a heavy thud, kicking up a thin layer of dust. They shared a concerned look.

"Well that's not a good sign."

"No, it's not," the captain agreed. He scanned the ship with a harsh, skeptical gaze. "Come on, let's look around."

They carefully explored the abandoned ship, swords drawn and ready. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Odysseus called out, but received no response. He was walking along the railing when he suddenly stopped and held up a hand, signaling Eurylochus to do the same.

He knelt down, inspecting deep claw marks along the edge of the deck. The rails were broken and splintered, leaving wood shards scattered around the area. Eurylochus squatted down beside him, running his fingers over the scratches.

"What happened to them?"

"If I had to guess? Sirens," Odysseus answered. He stood abruptly, heading towards the stairs. Eurylochus grabbed his wrist.

"Where are you going?" he asked, voice tinged with concern.

"We should check if there's any food or supplies below deck. They're not using it."

He sighed in relief and let him go, nodding in agreement,  "Good idea." He followed close behind, making sure to keep the captain in sight at all times. This place was unsettling, and they didn't know for sure if anyone, or anything was still here.

While rummaging below, they were able to find a spare sail along with a mending kit, and a crate half full of spoiled food. Spare weapons were strewn about the ship haphazardly, indicating that they were willingly discarded.

"Let's just gather what we can and leave," Odysseus ordered as he picked up a shield, slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to his first mate, noticing that he didn't move a muscle. "Eurylochus?"

He startled and snapped himself out of it, "Yes Captain?"

"You alright? Been pretty quiet," he noted, bending down to pick up a spear. "Y'know, this'll go a lot faster if you help," he teased. Eurylochus took a shaky breath, shoulders sagging in defeat. In shame.

"I need to tell you something."

"You can talk and work at the same time, can't you?"

"Ody, please." The nickname caught his attention, and he paused in his gathering. "I need you to listen."

His heart raced in his chest as Odysseus took a step closer. "I'm listening."

Eurylochus closed his eyes and looked away. He didn't even know where to start.

"I have a confession to make."

Odysseus felt himself grow tense. He steeled himself for whatever he was about to hear. A strong sense of dread boiled in the pit of his stomach: he prayed he was wrong about this.

"What is it?"

Eurylochus focused on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. His chest heaved with each breath, and he could feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on his skin. Just relax.

"I'm the one who opened the bag," he forced it out in one breath. Best to get it over with. He heard a small gasp just as metal clanged on the floor. Both the spear and shield laid unceremoniously at the captain's feet. His eyes slowly trailed up to look Odysseus in the eyes, but he really wished he hadn't.

Odysseus wore a look of shock and complete and utter betrayal. His brows were knit together tightly, mouth slightly agape. He shook his head, taking a step back.

"No. Tell me it's not true."

Eurylochus was crushed under the full weight of what he'd done.

"I'm so sorry, I-"

Odysseus turned away, wanting to leave, to go anywhere that wasn't here.

"Wait! Don't go!"

Odysseus froze where he stood, but didn't turn around.

"I should've believed you, I should've trusted you. I should've made them trust you."

"Yeah, you should've." He drew in a deep, shuttering breath. "But you can't change the past. What's done is done."

"I really am sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

"I tried to tell you on Circe's island, but..."

"I wasn't ready to listen," Odysseus cut him off when it seemed he was at a loss for words.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"But it's the truth." They stood in a tense silence, Odysseus still with his back turned. "I think deep down, I knew. I didn't want to, but I did."

"Please," Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus finally turned around and forced himself to look at his first mate, his brother, his dear friend. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Odysseus felt his heart ache. From the betrayal, from everything. He gave the only answer he could.

"I don't know." Odysseus turned away wordlessly, walking in a daze.

Eurylochus followed behind, desperate for his forgiveness. "Ody, please-"

The affectionate nickname stung like saltwater in a fresh wound. He reared back, marching up to Eurylochus as he yelled, "You don't get to call me that!"

Eurylochus backed away, a look of hurt and understanding in his tearful eyes. Odysseus held strong for all but a second before he deflated, "Not... not right now."

He supposed that was the best he could hope for.

Though his head hung in shame, a tremendous weight was lifted from his shoulders. He just wished he felt better about it all.

They looked around the empty vessel in a tense silence, interrupted by a hauntingly beautiful, drawn out note. A beckoning call.

Odysseus whipped around to look at him, panic clearly written on his face.

"We have to get back to the ship. Now!"

Eurylochus didn't need to be told twice.

~~~

Odysseus called an emergency meeting as soon as they made it back. He dispersed the newly acquired weapons while explaining the situation at hand. Then, he started giving orders.

They were to set a slow and steady course forward, and everyone was to stuff their ears with beeswax to block the siren's song. Everyone except-

"I'm going to ask them for directions. I'll need to hear what they're saying, so you'll need to tie me to the mast to make sure I don't jump overboard."

Eurylochus and Polites stared at him as if he grew a second head.

"I'm sorry, what?" Polites immediately questioned the same time Eurylochus muttered, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We only have so much wax, I'd rather make sure that everyone else is safe," he reasoned.

"But what about your safety?" Polites asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

Odysseus barked out a laugh, brushing him off. "That's what the rope is for!"

"Rope can break."

"Not if you use enough of it," he argued. Polites threw his hands up in the air.

"You can't be serious!"

Odysseus didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed a coil of rope. Polites looked to Eurylochus for help.

"You're just gonna let this happen?"

He glanced nervously between his two best friends. "It's ultimately his decision. I personally advise against it, but..." he tilted his head in thought, "It could pay off."

"Have you both gone mad?"

"I think it's for the best. We'll never make it past Poseidon without their help. But they won't tell me if I don't play along."

"It's not playing along if you're hypnotized!"

"I'll keep my wits about me."

"You don't know that!"

"Captain-" Eurylochus spoke up, and the arguing pair turned to him, speaking in unison, "What?"

As they had been talking, the crew passed around the can of beeswax, stuffing their ears until they couldn't hear a thing. By the time it came around to them, it was almost completely empty. "There's barely enough left for one person."

Odysseus stared down at the last of the wax. "I figured as much," he sighed deeply. He picked up the large, heavy coil of rope from the deck and shoved it at Eurylochus. "Be sure to tie me up good and tight."

"Yes Sir," he nodded curtly and began securing Odysseus to the main mast. He started by binding his wrists together, pulling his arms back as far as they would comfortably go. Once he was confident that he wouldn't be able to pull his arms away, Eurylochus started wrapping the length of the rope around both Odysseus and the mast. He walked around in circles, stopping occasionally to pull the rope taught before continuing.

As Eurylochus worked, Elpenor and Perimedes stood on either side of him, taking the chance to annoy their captain while he couldn't fight back. Elpenor gave him a hard noogie, the wax blocking out his orders to stop. Perimedes chuckled and pinched his cheeks, squishing and stretching his face into funny expressions.

Any time Odysseus yelled at them or Eurylochus tried to chase them away, they only pointed at their ears, taunting them about how they "couldn't hear them" and "didn't know what they're saying." It was some much needed levity among the crew, and he didn't mind being the butt of the joke.

The ship continued cutting through the water, moving at a slow and steady pace. The fog rolled in thick and low above the water's surface, concealing what lurked below.

By now, everyone had returned to their stations. Odysseus stood at attention, his head on a swivel the longer they sailed. He began twitching in his bonds, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. They were close, and there was no turning back now.

~~~

Polites was scared. Not just for Odysseus, but oddly enough, for himself. Sure, he was already dead, but he had no idea how the sirens would affect him, or what they would do to a spirit like him- if they could do anything at all.

He was hiding below deck when he first heard it...

"La la la la la la..."

His head snapped up at the lilting, distant sound. "Eurydice?" he called out hopefully. She sounded so close, yet so far away. A flower sprouted between the floorboards, bright red and velvety soft. He bent over and picked it, bringing it up to his nose. He inhaled deeply, a light sweet scent filling his nostrils. The petals were thin and ruffled, and he swore it was growing in his hand.

When he looked up, there were lush vines hanging from the ceiling.

"La la la la la la..."

It was louder now, impossible to ignore. Without thinking, he floated up, through the thick foliage; through the wooden planks. Instead of seeing the crew navigating the ship, he stood beneath a massive pomegranate tree in the underworld.

No, he couldn't be here...

"Polites, over here!"

He turned to see Eurydice sitting on a nearby rock. She looked absolutely radiant, her short dark hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as she flashed a dazzling smile.

Voices danced around in his head.

"Eurydice."

"Eurydice."

"Don't you miss me?" she chirped, crawling closer along her rock.

He smiled, fighting back tears. "More than you know," he insisted, floating closer.

"Don't you wanna come greet me?" she asked as sat up on her knees, arms outstretched and awaiting a hug.

The illusion flickered, and for a moment, he was standing aboard the ship. Men frantically moved around him, distracting him before the illusion slipped back in place. He hesitated, "Eurydice, something isn't right. I know that you shouldn't be here-"

For a split second, anger flashed across her face as he questioned her. It was gone so quick, Polites thought he imagined it. "Relax, everything will be okay. Jump in the water and we can wash your fears away."

"Well I would, but I already died, and you know you did too."

"I would take the suffering from you." She leapt off the rock, almost freezing in the air before slipping beneath the surface. She emerged with a genuine grin, pushing wet hair away from her face.

Polites wanted nothing more than to jump in after her. And yet, he still floated at the edge of the railing. "As good as that sounds, it's just too good to be true."

"I can take the suffering from you." She spun around in the water, twirling in a tight circle as a water spout brought her up to his level.

"You stayed under ground, and we said our goodbyes." He tried to cling to logic and reasoning, but Eurydice reached out to him, cupping his face in her gentle hands.

"I will take the suffering from you." She pulled him in closer, pressing their foreheads together. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him as if she was afraid he'd disappear. He hasn't been held like that in so long...

"I wish I could do the same for you," he said, reaching out to cup her face as tears filled his eyes.

"Won't you shelter us?" she belted, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards her. He took another step, walking through the air to follow. "Harbor me with your open arms, from the wind, the wind, the wind."

The wind. That's right; she had died in a terrible storm. The Gods themselves caught her in their wrath and tore her asunder. Poseidon wished to do the same, which was why they had sailed through such dangerous waters.

That's not her, no matter how much you wish it was.

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go..." he slipped free from her grasp, floating backwards to keep her in his sight. Her eyes filled with fear as she reached out for him, her hand phasing through his wrist this time.

"Don't leave me again!" she begged grabbing the railing to hoist herself up. She crawled towards him on the deck, the illusion beginning to fall apart around them, but she stayed the same. A perfect replica. "Wait for me! I'm comin'. Wait I'm comin' with you," she reached out, lacing their fingers together.

This wasn't right. This wasn't real. He took a step back, and she held on tighter, utter desperation clear in her voice, "I'm coming, wait for me! We hear the walls repeating!"

She wasn't real...

"The fallin' of our feet and it sounds like drummin'!"

Polites doubled over, hands over his ears as tears began to flow. He shook his head, "You're not her!"

"And we are not alone," she sang, her voice invading every thought. "You hear the rocks and stones, echoing our song!"

She sounded so desperate, so pleading, Polites could barely stand it. And then a blood curdling scream shattered what was left of the twisted mirage.

~~~

Polites was back on the deck. He supposed he always had been, but it had all felt so real... until it hadn't.

Eurylochus had stabbed a siren straight through the tail as it crawled towards Odysseus. It looked exactly like Penelope, yet he never so much as flinched when she was skewered right before his eyes.

The crew had caught the rest of the sirens in large nets and threw them on the deck carelessly. They writhed and flopped around, tangling themselves in the net and with each other. Elpenor wrenched the Eurydice siren away from him, despite his pleading protests.

"Whoever she is, it's not her! You're fucking dead and she still tried to kill you!" he hissed as he wrestled her down, allowing Perimedes to pin her to the deck with a spear through her tail.

"No wait!" he called out helplessly, but a voice from behind stopped him in his tracks.

"He has a point Polites," Odysseus said as Eurylochus cut him free with a swift slice at the mast. "They don't care if you're dead or alive; they only want one thing. Isn't that right?" he asked, addressing the Penelope siren and lifting her chin with the tip of his sword.

"We're sorry, we'll let you pass! Please spare us, and we can all be on our way!" she tried to bargain for their lives. Odysseus stood emotionless and unwavering.

"Why, so you can kill the next group of sailors who dare to pass by? Yeah, I don't think so," he said, stalking closer, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. "We saw what you did with the last crew. You would've killed every last one of us and stripped our bones clean."

"But that didn't happen! So just-"

"No, it didn't happen because I refused to let it," he spoke in a low, dark tone. Polites had never seen Odysseus look so determined and angry. And yet... there was a sick satisfaction underneath it all.

Odysseus stood up to his full height, yelling out for all to hear, "I'm done granting mercy to those who don't deserve it!" The crew burst into loud cheers, yelling out their agreement and support. "We're through suffering at the hands of monsters like you!" The war cries grew louder, they raising their swords in the air, beating their chests. Polites stood in shock, unable to move.

"This ends here and now!" The men whooped and hollered, and Odysseus had to raise his voice even louder to be heard over them. "Cut off their tails! Throw their bodies back in the water, let them drown," he ordered, and the sirens immediately began wailing and pleading.

"What? No, you can't! Odysseus, please don't do this!" Polites tried to reason with his friend, but he refused to listen.

"If I don't, they'll kill everyone. On our ship, and the next, and the next. I'm ending this now, whether you like it or not," he held firm in his decision as the slaughter began. Polites could only watch on in absolute horror at the scene before him.

"That's not your friend, that's not my wife, and that damn sure isn't my sister," he spat as he pointed to each imposter.

All Polites could hear were earth shattering screams and ear piercing shrieks. Swords swung through the air and came crashing down on the deck, sending blood splattering every direction. The sirens crawled over each other as they tried to escape, getting trapped in the nets and choking themselves as they tried to force their way to safety. They amputated their own limbs as they failed to squeeze through the nets, the rope cutting through their skin and flesh like water. Fully formed arms and hands splattered against the deck in a bloody shapeless mass. Their tails laid limp and gelatinous once severed from their bodies, and the sirens began to morph and loose form. Blood, as well as a clear, viscous liquid spilled from their wounds, and their bodies deflated and flopped around lifelessly, slowly becoming nothing more than vaguely human shaped water sacks.

"See Polites? They were never human," Odysseus spoke calmly, as if that would put him at ease; as if that was the point, as if any of that mattered.

The carnage spilled over the deck was inhuman, but that didn't make it any less wrong.

"You think that's the problem? That they weren't human?" Polites asked, barely above a whisper. He stared at the twitching, moaning blobs on the deck as his friends kicked and shoved their bodies into the ocean below. "That was brutal a-and cruel, and-"

"Justified."

Polites stared at his friend in horror. "Who are you?"

"The man who's going to get us home. No matter what the cost."

~~~

Polites was restless. He spent most of his time invisible and out of sight, but he paced constantly.

He couldn't stop thinking of the sirens.

Sure she might not have Eurydice, but she was her own person, with her own life. They all were. They probably had friends and family lurking below. What if they had been mothers. Even without a stomach, the thought made him sick.

He couldn't let himself spiral. Eurydice is safe in the underworld. She's safe and sound, underground. See? You still have a sense of humor. You're still you. And she's still safe, that wasn't her. It was someone else.

And yet, he couldn't let it go.

~~~

It was strange: no matter where he was, he could always tell when someone was looking for him. Regardless if he was on the opposite side of the ship, he could hear his name being called as clear as day. Which was why he knew Odysseus was wanting to talk to him.

"You called?"

"Yeah, I need your opinion on something," he said, eyes never leaving the map spread out before him.

"Sure. About what?" he asked, drifting over to the desk. He peered over his shoulder, scanning the path ahead. It looked like they were headed straight for...

"The sirens said the only way home was through the lair of Scylla," Odysseus confirmed his fears.

"And you believe them?" he questioned.

"They were about to kill me, they had no reason to lie."

"It's too dangerous!"

"Poseidon's worse! You weren't there, so you didn't see it first hand. But sailing on the open water would be a death sentence for every last one of us. Scylla... at least she's a gamble."

"Odysseus, I'm telling you, it's not worth the risk!"

"So you're saying I should test our luck with Charybdis?"

"No!"

"Then Scylla is our best bet. I don't know, maybe we could kill her if we just-"

"I'll do it."

"What? Polites, you can't-"

"I'm already dead, there's nothing I have to worry about. But she could kill you, or any one of our friends. And trust me, dying isn't fun!"

"I know that!"

"Then act like it!"

Odysseus gripped the edge of his desk, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to do, and I'm scared Polites. I'm fucking terrified. That's why I need you to weigh in here."

"And I said I'll handle it!"

"Care to elaborate? 'Cause I don't like how vague that sounds."

Polites thought long and hard about the problem ahead. An idea suddenly came to him, but he didn't like it. But... it was the best chance they all had.

"Maybe I could... I don't know, posses her? And hold her off until you make it through," he suggested hesitantly. Odysseus stared at him in shock.

"You really think you could do that?"

"I possessed Eurylochus without even trying-"

"That's not the same thing!"

"I know it's not, but do you have any better ideas?"

Odysseus remained silent.

Polites let out a heavy sigh. "I know it's not... ideal. But you have to trust me on this, okay?"

"Okay," he said hesitantly, nodding slowly, "Okay," he was nodding faster now, seemingly more sure of himself and their plan. "Yeah, this could work."

Polites smiled and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, icy and cool to the touch: it felt relaxing. "It's going to."

~~~

They only had a day to prepare for Scylla. Odysseus told no one where they were going, knowing it would send them into a panic. He had considered warning Eurylochus, but after some heavy consideration, he decided against it.

Polites was nowhere to be seen, but that was pretty typical behavior now. Yet instead on remaining aboard the ship, he lurked deep below the waves. He'd recently discovered that he can travel through water as if it were air. He didn't have to worry about breathing, so he could stay for however long he wanted. But it was colder, much colder.

He was hunting. Not for food, mind you, he was hunting for something to practice on.

It took him a while, but he happened upon a great fish; slick gray with a mouth full of razors, and more than half the size of their boat. He "swam" behind it, observing it from above. Finally, he dove into it, seizing control of the massive body.

Confusion. Fear. Anger.

The shark thrashed about, dashing left to right and cutting tight circles through the water. He tried his best to calm it down and fight against the creature's natural instinct to force him out.

We just want to hunt. I'm not hurting you, we're just going to act natural. Take me where the fish are.

It seemed to listen, slowing down as its swimming pattern became less erratic. It silently guided him, and Polites sat in the back of the creatures mind, waiting to strike. Out of the vast endless blue, a shape took form. A large sword fish, chasing a school of mullet. Perfect.

Don't be scared.

Polites was in full control now, and he felt the rush as animalistic instincts kicked in. He flew through the water, striking the fish from behind. His vision went white and milky as teeth tore into flesh, ripping off a large hunk and letting the shark swallow its prey. Polites thrashed his head, biting over and over, becoming familiar with the act of possessing a beast. 

He made quick work of the swordfish.

As the feeding frenzy came to an end, Polites relinquished control, allowing the shark to regain its body and mind. It swam away in a panic, disappearing into the cobalt abyss. Polites shuddered at the thought of what other monsters lurked just beyond his sight.

~~~

They reached Scylla's lair just before noon the next day. The sky grew darker as they sailed closer, large black clouds looming overhead to block out any sunlight. Polites shared a look with Odysseus from across the deck, and the captain gave him a subtle nod. He returned the gesture and disappeared, slinking off the ship unnoticed. Being invisible was awesome.

On board the ship, Odysseus stood stoically at the wheel. He had already given out his orders, and they were to sail slow and steady straight ahead. He split the crew in half, sending one group to row while the rest of the men closed all the sails and prepared for a storm. He didn't know what they were about to face, but he knew they needed to be ready.

"You're quiet today," Eurylochus must have snuck up behind him while he was lost in thought.

"Not much to say," he answered with a shrug.

"Do you even know where we're going?"

Yes. "I'm pretty sure."

His first mate arched a brow. "Just pretty sure? That's not the Ody I know," he teased, throwing an arm around his shoulders to loosen him up a little. "You can relax, there hasn't been a storm all day. I think Poseidon has finally given up on us."

If only. "I think he's just taking the day off," Odysseus joked along. Eurylochus chuckled. Odysseus hesitated before asking, "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," he complied.

"It's gonna be pretty dark through the passage way, and we need to see what's ahead. Light up six torches and pass them out."

"Yes Sir." He turned away to go do as he was asked. Odysseus heaved a tense sigh, gripping the wheel tightly. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, he sent a prayer to the gods.

He prayed to Athena- for her forgiveness, to grant them all her protection and strength. To Hermes for his good fortune and speed. And to Thanatos, to please spare them for another day, and if they weren't so lucky, to make it quick and painless. He didn't know if they were listening, or if they even cared. Hermes cared, or at least he thought he did. He seems like he genuinely wants to help, even if he has a funny way of showing it. Thanatos has always been an indifferent kind of God, and he doubted he cared about the outcome either way. But Athena... he had no idea where her head was at. They left on bad terms, she said things that cut deep, and he returned the favor in full. He didn't blame her if she hated him, if she never wanted to see him again. He knew he didn't deserve her help, and yet, here he was asking.

They entered the mouth of the cave, and with each passing second, the remaining light slipped away. Soon, the torches offered the only light by which to see.

~~~

Polites had found Scylla a while ago, and she's just as monstrous as they all say. Even asleep, she was a ghastly sight: her face was gaunt and sunken with wet, stringy black hair fanned out around her. Six other heads protruded from her neck, her back, stretching and morphing itself into sickening blobs of flesh where they connected to her body. The heads themselves were sharp, almost angular in shape and resembled eels. Polites hated eels. Where she should have legs, slithering tentacles writhed amongst themselves, and from her lower stomach grew the heads of wolves, fur fusing with sickly gray scales, morphing into each other and with her.

She had no clue he was there, and he needed to keep it that way up until the last second.

Polites could see the outline of the ship come into view. One of the long necks rose into the air, taking a few long, deep sniffs. He watched as the head grew frantic, awaking Scylla and the other heads. She focused her large, black eyes on the ship and smiled. Her face nearly split in half, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. Her skin began to crack and her hair finally fell over her shoulders, concealing herself behind a curtain of black. She silently slipped into the water and Polites followed suit.

~~~

Odysseus stood as still as a statue, eyes scanning the water for any sign of Scylla, but all he could see were shapes in the darkness moving across the deck. Six held torches.

Eurylochus stood watch at the front of the ship, holding his torch higher when he thought he saw something moving in the water. The firelight reflected off the surface as he leaned over the railing, watching as something sleek and slithering dipped below the gentle lapping waves. He turned to look over his shoulder, calling out, "Captain! Something approaches..."

Before he can continue, he hears Perimedes speak up from beside him, and the utter horror in his voice makes his blood run cold. "What the fuck?"

Eurylochus whips around to face whatever it was and drops the torch in sheer terror.

"Hello."

Her voice is raspy, unnatural, like it's more than just her talking. Her massive black eyes flash white as she bares her teeth, and her neck stretches out to its full length, completely towering over the ship as the rest of the heads grow.

Odysseus stared on with a cold gaze. Now.

"Row for your lives!" he screamed the command as loud as he could, hoping to snap them out of their fear so they could get out as fast as possible.

This was the gamble of a lifetime.

One of the heads dove straight for a torch, and the deck ignites with the screams of men. But before it can clamp its jaws around anyone, it makes a sharp right turn and lunges at another head that was headed straight toward Eurylochus. He snapped out of it and picked up his torch, running away.

Huge, powerful jaws snap down on its own throat as Scylla and the affected head let out a piercing shriek.

~~~

Polites has never been more afraid. Even when he was fighting the cyclops, it wasn't as bad as this. He was dead, and yet he didn't know what she'd do to him if she ripped him out of her body. But all of that paled in comparison to the fear he had for his brothers.

The extra head was mostly thoughtless, focusing solely on an insatiable thirst for blood. Even its confusion over his presence was vague.

He saw its twin set its sights on Eurylochus and he shot forward, mouth open wide. He felt his teeth, far too many, pierce through thick, armored skin. An ungodly noise ripped free from the beast as both heads screamed. She began to writhe and squirm, and Polites felt a hand grab him by the neck, desperately clawing at him to pull him away.

"Who are you doing?"

Polites clamped down harder, hot blood gushing down his throat and pouring out of the sides of the monster's mouth. As the head got a taste of the blood it craved, it ripped more ferociously, guzzling the hot, thick liquid with a desperation Polites had never seen before.

When Scylla was successful in pulling him away, he jumped to the injured head and began attacking the one still in her grasp. Another painful wail echoed off the cave walls as she stumbled in the water, creating large waves. The ship struggled to navigate them without slamming against the cave walls or submerged stalagmites.

This head wasn't much different, but it had an insatiable hunger for flesh. Polites gave it exactly what it wanted, ripping off large, meaty chunks and swallowing them whole. He tore into it until he felt his teeth scraping bone. With each bite and thrust, his own wounds throbbed and oozed more blood. He grew hungrier as the beast grew weaker. When he left, it let out a gurgling death rattle and fell limp. Scylla's screams shook the cave, and rocks began falling.

He possessed the next head that tried to grab Leander, attacking another that had cornered Perimedes.

"What are you? Get out!" She was trying to tear him away by the base of her neck. Long, sharp claws dug into her own skin as she frantically tore deep, bloody gashes into herself.

Thirst.

The monstrous instinct took over and teeth puncture through scales and arteries to drink its fill, making sure to shred its prey to pieces in the process.

Hunger.

This one acts completely starved, slashing through thick muscle and bone with ease. It shook its head ferociously as it devoured its brother until its dying breath.

The other two heads were circling the boat as Scylla cried out in pain. The wolves grew anxious and angry, snarling and howling in sync with their mother's mournful wails.

Bloodlust.

It was easier by now. He knew what to expect as hot blood burst beneath the pressure of his jaws, splattering on the deck with a satisfying wet slap.

Feast.

He bit and ripped with everything he had, swallowing chunks of meat bigger than he was. Large hunks fell to the deck with disgustingly heavy thuds while others still hung on by a thick strand of tissue.

"Stop! Let go!" she commanded, but she sounded scared, frantic. The wolves sensed her unease and began fighting amongst themselves, baring their teeth and nipping at each other, until one finally tore into her own stomach. Then, they all dug in.

She screeched so loudly, the Gods themselves could hear her pain. And somewhere on her island, Circe smiled.

Polites wasn't even doing that... Okay maybe he was the first to bite her, but he didn't expect for them all to turn like that.

Tears trailed down Scylla's face and blood gurgled inside her throat as she tried to speak. Red began to drip past her lips as she struggled and gasped for air. "W-what are you?"

The question made him feel sick.

Who was she to be so horrified of him?

Finally, he slipped inside her mind to answer her question. I'm just a man protecting my friends.

"And I-I'm just trying to survive," it sounded painful for her to talk. "But... I'm tired of that. So tired." Her breath was shallow and raspy.

Polites was bombarded with glimpses of a beautiful young girl, with a rich, fulfilling life of her own. One with family and friends... a deep love and a wicked curse born from jealousy.

An immense guilt began to drown him.

She looked up at him with dull, hollow eyes, pleading, "Please... finish it. Let me rest."

With shaky hands, Polites raised her arms up and cupped her face. He closed her eyes, and with one swift jerk, she fell completely still.

~~~

Every man stood on the deck, petrified with fear. Pieces of flesh the size of boulders littered the blood soaked deck. The men themselves were drenched red, some still trembling in shock. Eurylochus felt dizzy and he dropped to his knees. He caught himself, hands resting in a sticky puddle. He lifted an arm, and the blood dripped off in thick gooey strands. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but he kept slipping, and the more panicked, the more he fell. Asterios and Elpenor rushed to his side, helping to steady him.

Polites appeared on the deck, and everyone was staring at him just as they had that first day back. He pretended like it didn't hurt.

He looked at all of them, then looked at Odysseus, frozen in complete shock.

He thought of the sirens, how they begged for their lives, how he begged for their lives. How he had looked at all of them the way they were looking at him now. And then, he bowed.

"Polites, just what the hell was that? That wasn't what we talked about!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is excessive violence only okay when you're the ones doing it?"

[heygirltimeformorning]

Title: Satellite (Ch. 2)

Summary: Buck gets a building dropped on him and the world shatters into a million pieces.

Chapter 1 is on AO3 - here's a preview of chapter 2!

*

Eddie promised a long time ago to never lie to Christopher. People tend to treat him like he’s fragile, like he couldn’t have hard conversations, like he didn’t understand. Eddie knew that things were going to be different for Christopher, that, logistically, some things were going to be harder for Chris than they were for other people. But Chris could handle the truth - and he deserved the truth. He blows out a breath. “I don’t know, Chris,” he says. “I know he woke up, and he’s - he’s trying to get better. But I don’t know what better looks like yet.”

“He’s Buck,” Christopher says. “He’ll be okay. He always is.” Eddie can hear the worry in Chris’ voice, the need for reassurance. 

“I know,” he says. “I know, Christopher. I hope that’s how it goes this time.” 

“It will, Dad.” Chris’ voice is soft, and he’s quiet for a moment and then: “can I talk to him?” 

“He’s sleeping, kiddo,” Eddie says, forgetting the kiddo-rule. Buck sleeping is an easier truth than Buck not having said anything yet, and Eddie is hopeful that Buck will be talking soon.

“Okay,” Christopher says quietly. “But I want to talk to him as soon as I can,” he says. “You promise?”

Eddie thinks: same, but he nods, forgetting for a moment he’s on the phone. “Yeah - yes. I promise. As soon as you can, I’ll get him on the phone for you,” he promises. “I love you, Chris,” he adds quietly. 

Chris sighs, and for a moment, Eddie thinks he might not say it, but then: “Love you, dad.” 

Eddie wipes at his eyes, and the call ends, and he’s standing there, in the hospital hallway, outside the ICU waiting room, until Bobby and Athena are leaving, and Bobby pulls up short when he sees him.

“Thought you had gone home,” he says, and Bobby looks — old is the first word that comes to Eddie’s mind, followed by tired. Worn out - like the past few days have stretched him out - pulled him thin. “You need to. Need to get some rest.”

Eddie wonders what he looks like if Bobby, in this condition, is telling him to get some rest, but that’s always been Bobby. “I had to call Chris,” he says, though that doesn’t explain why he’s still in the hallway, why he’s spent most of his time the last few days at the hospital when Buck is (just) his best friend. 

“And did you?” Bobby asks, hands on his hips and Eddie nods.

“He asked to talk to him. To Buck,” Eddie says, and then something breaks deep in his chest, because what the fuck had Buck been thinking, running into a building they all knew was coming down - and coming down soon? How could he do that, when he had Christopher to think about, when he had Eddie to think about? How dare Buck put him in this position, think he was anything other than the one thing keeping Eddie anchored here? You think you’re expendable and you’re not, Eddie had said, and he can remember the way Buck looked at him after he’d said that, the way he could tell Buck wanted to believe it - believe he wasn’t expendable, but there was still a shadow of a doubt in Buck’s eyes and —

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s alright.” Bobby’s voice sounds  far away, but Bobby’s got him on one side and Athena on the other, and Eddie’s knees have given out from under him, under the weight of this. Bobby and Athena help him to the floor, and sit down right next to him, Bobby’s hand on the back of his neck. “What’d you say?” he asks and Eddie shakes his head. 

“I just told him Buck was resting,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Resting like you need to be,” Athena says, and her voice is stern, but there’s a gentleness - something softer, kinder underneath. “You’re no good to anyone half-dead on your feet, you and Maddie both. At least Maddie has Chimney to take care of her - who’s taking care of Eddie?” The implication is there, unsaid. Just like the nurse asking if he was sure he wasn’t the boyfriend, and Eddie leans forward, cradling his head in his hands.

“All of this got - fucked up,” he says thickly, wiping at his eyes. Christopher is in Texas, Buck is fighting for his life, and Eddie’s sitting in the floor of a hospital (gross) with his boss and his boss’ wife, crying about it.

*

Coming soon!

[rookie-lou]

The Heat - Short Story Game - Start - 1/5

(Choose your path) Humanized Cars

It was warm. Too warm. And today was racing day.

It was also Lightning’s and Sally's first anniversary and Lightning had something planned for the evening. He just had to get through it all.

He hadn't forgotten, but he didn't have a present yet.

Lightning’s whole body was cooking in the #95 and drinking water didn't completely help with the dizziness and nausea.

Lap after lap it only got worse but Lightning didn't stop. Doc would have called it stubborn, Sally would have called it reckless and maybe Lightning thought they were both a little right. But stubbornness won.

Of course, he kept his symptoms a secret from Doc. He wouldn't have let him drive in the first place and Lightning couldn't let that happen. Having a doctor as crew chief had its pro’s and con’s. Actually, they were only pro’s but Lightning counted "not letting you race when It was warm” as a con.

Maybe he really didn't care enough about himself to care. Maybe he needed more self-confidence, even though the whole world was sure he had a lot of it. But really it was just a show. At least he wasn't a one-man show anymore.

The race was hard.

He won.

It was too warm. Way too warm.

The crowd cheered, Lightning stood on the roof of the #95 and raised his hands, just something he always did after a win. The broad grin hid the discomfort he felt and the drops of sweat that glistened on his face could easily be sold as an after-race thing.

With an unfocused gaze, blurry vision, and a headache he looked around and tried to find Doc. Not because Lightning wanted to tell him what was going on but more because Doc always gave him a feeling of security. Doc was his anchor and right now, when he was fried by the sun and swaying from the heat, he needed that anchor. Maybe to keep from falling over or maybe for selfish reasons.

Doc always said, however, that it is not selfish to need and like someone. Lightning knew he still had to learn that and Doc always said that he was there to teach him.

When he imagined that there were pyramids in the background and sand everywhere, it started to explain the heat. Camels were walking in the distance. But maybe they were other racing cars. He couldn’t see it through the blurriness.

The cheering people were too loud, the sun was too hot, the racing suit was too tight.

He made a decision and…

…climbed down to find Doc (go to 2/5, ⚡️)

…decided to stay there to celebrate his victory (go to 3/5, 🏎️)

[tiffyfoundsomething]

Lady Doolli

I’ve mentioned before that I like blind box toys and ball jointed dolls and now I’m in trouble because there are blind box ball jointed dolls out there.

Lady Doolli is blind boxed but is NOT a BJD though she’s in a similar style. I’d seen these on Amazon for a while and was curious but only recently decided to give one a try.

There is 1 skintone, 6 different hair styles/colors, and it looks like maybe 2 eye colors.

There are also 6 possible outfits.

The dolls and clothing are separate, but are each $26 and both are in the same listing here: https://amzn.to/3OrhHsk

The box is small and cute with a lot of pictures and writing on it, especially making a point to let you know there’s no second outfit in here and they must be bought separately.

The outfits are packed in a little paperboard box shaped like a garment bag. It says 2022 Spring, so I wonder if there are many other outfit sets that have been released.

To be honest, I don’t care for any of these outfits, really. Figured I should get one to review, at least.

Both the doll and outfit are packed in these silver foil bags inside the boxes. There’s no plastic shell or anything to hold their position in the packaging. They’re just loose in there.

I got dark, long hair with a side part with blue and purple eyes, and almost missed the tiny little bag of extra hands inside the silver bag. She does come already dressed in the pajamas.

I tried to get a good photo of the face screening but my phone is a potato. There’s a good amount of detail with a simple layout. She has eyeshadow, blush on the cheeks, chin, nose, and brows, a little lip line to separate her lips... It’s a cute face, but I do prefer my dolls to not look sad or startled.

She does have rooted hair which is silky and smooth. It’s a little stiffer than Kiwi nylon (Rainbow High) while still being soft.

She also has a couple paint spots on her face that look to be from the eyebrow paint.

The rooting isn’t super dense in some areas.

Her head is harder than a Barbie’s head but is squishable to a degree so her eyes could be removed and replaced with some heat and her hair could be rerooted if you wanted.

Hair drop on a new doll head is normal. This looks like a plug or two which didn’t get anchored.

I’m impressed with the posing. The joints are stiff enough to hold a pose but easy to move other than her hips which take a little bit more pressure, and have a high range of motion.

The torso joints aren’t as mobile as the arms and legs, though.

Her head can look up and down or tilt left and right depending on how you turn the neck joint which is a simple hinged ball.

The backs of the knees...

All of the jointing reminds me of Figmas.

Honestly I feel like the body alone is worth the $26 price tag, AND you get a rooted head with quality hair and inset eyes, a pair of pajamas, and an extra pair of hands.

-

Neither outfit that I have has any sort of closures or openings so you do need to remove the head and hands to dress her.

Getting the hands on and off is difficult

Turns out there’s a LOT of flash on her wrist pegs. I did go in and clean that off. There was a good sized bit on her neck ball, too.

Heat up the hands, though, and they go on and off pretty easily.

-

As for the outfit.

Silver bag again.

I couldn’t get this headband to stay on her hair because it’s satin and her hair is satiny smooth, but it does have a wire in the “ears” so you can pose it as you wish.

......

LOOK AT THESE TINY LITTLE SHOES!

They have stitches, laces, tongues, glued on rubbery soles with IN SCALE texture on the bottom...

They went on a lot more easily than I expected them to OVER her socks. I did need to get a little stick to pull the back of the heel out and over the doll’s heels. Other than that, easy-easy.

I also didn’t even try to extract and tie the laces. They looked really short and I have poor motor control, so I opted to just shove her feet in there with the laces tucked inside.

The outfit came with shorts, a one-piece sweater and shirt combo, and some long socks. The socks aren’t hemmed but everything else is. Again, no closures, not even an elastic waistband on the shorts. The shorts were a little difficult to put on.

All of the fabrics are soft and despite the sweater having a feelable texture, it’s not rough or scratchy so it’s not kicking off my texture-BAD senses.

Action pose! FWIP!

She can’t quite pull of Sailor Moon’s signature pose.

Here she is next to some other blind box BJD (the others really are BJD). They all could certainly share clothes despite Doolli’s longer, thinner body.

From left to right:

Penny’s Box Antu Natural Wonderland - https://amzn.to/3IqKfOz

SimonToy Teenar Campus Series - https://amzn.to/3IlnGLl

Lady Doolli and outfit pack - https://amzn.to/3MiOflA

Come4Free Bonnie Journey of Streets - https://amzn.to/42QlMKG

-

While I do feel that the quality of Lady Doolli is in line with the price (all together she costs $52), and am impressed with, basically, everything about her, I don’t feel a need to buy another. Out of all of the blind box BJD I’ve tried (not pictured here is the Penny’s Box centaurs), the only one I’ve wanted more than one of was Bonnie. I have three.

[lavalampstealer]

Okay, I’ve made a compiled dump of lore on my interpretations/versions of IEYTD characters (mainly Phoenix and Handler so far) so I can pin this and ppl won’t have to go looking for old posts. I’ll be updating this as I figure stuff out or if anything changes with them. Apologies if this is a little hard to read, I kind of word-vomited info here and I’ve tried to clean it up a little. Spoiler warning for IEYTD 1 and 2

Buckle up it’s gonna be a long one

First up: Handler, he/him (tumblr doesn’t have yellow text so orange will have to do).

He wears a sleeveless yellow turtleneck over a short sleeved shirt, square glasses, and a yellow headset. Originally a Field Agent for the Agency, he made quite a name for himself and was given the internal/honorary nickname of Agent Moray due to his knack for slipping away from Zor’s clutches while also leaving carnage in his wake (little did people know, he usually ran on pure adrenaline, fear, and general clumsiness that worked out in his favor). He eventually had to retire from field work and become a handler due to him breaking his right leg during his last mission and it not healing properly. Before he had to hang up his spy gear, he was selected to be an early implant tester for the Agency, and the one he got was a rudimentary version of the telekinesis where he could float things in place but not grab objects from afar. He has kept it and it has proved especially useful during his time as a handler for hovering important documents like dossiers and building blueprints/layouts nearby during missions. As for his actual work as a handler, he acts as support to Phoenix, mostly with work related things, but sometimes emotionally as well. He acts as an anchor for Phoenix and is there to bring them back to reality should he notice them getting that glassy-eyed, million mile stare every once in a while. He was very concerned for them in the fallout of Operation: Death Engine and after that he became more attached to them, resulting in him being devastated after Rising Phoenix. If there is anything between him and Phoenix, it leans more towards him being like a father figure than anything else. He usually works from his office in the Agency building (the one from IEYTD 1), but occasionally for more urgent/important/overseas missions, he opts to be nearby (in the crowd in Stage Fright, above Phoenix somewhere in Eaves Drop, outside the chateau in Party Crasher, etc.). If I come up with more I’ll add it to here, 10/10 character.

Next (and probably much longer): Phoenix, they/them.

During IEYTD 1, they had short hair and wore a long sleeve dress shirt and their cyan tie. They were able to do more action-intense missions (hijacking Zor’s sub, sneaking into a cargo plane to steal a car, sneaking onto a shuttle to the Death Engine, etc.) and were generally more aloof about their own safety and pretty much saw their job as just a fun game. However, in the aftermath of Operation DE, their left leg was badly injured and needed to be replaced from the thigh down, so the Agency provided them with a robotic prosthetic. It took them a while to get used to it, and while they can walk, run, and stand with it just fine, it’s a bit difficult for them do more intense activity like, say, hand to hand combat (although a good kick to shin usually has foes doubled over) or dodging projectiles. They also got their facial scars from the DE Incident, with the one on their left cheek coming from the beam that shot into their shuttle when the Death Engine fired for the first time. The other two are just general nicks and gashes from crashing back to Earth. Because of their robotic leg, someone in the Agency gave them the nickname “Tin Can” and it stuck (Phoenix pretends to hate it but thinks it’s amusing). After months of recovery, they were cleared for field work once again where they were given slightly easier missions that have most of the action happen while they’re seated (an exception to this is the implied fight with Gibson before Party Crasher because him being there was unexpected). This time around they prefer to roll up their sleeves because it’s more comfortable, allows for more movement, and it keeps them from getting singed/dirty, but they still wear a cyan tie (a new one since their old one was torn). Their hair grew out during their stint in Medical and they liked it, so they decided to keep it longer. Not much happened to them physically during IEYTD 2, but after Rising Phoenix they had their right arm replaced from the elbow down and got an updated leg (their og prosthetic was shattered in the fall).

I don’t have a design for them as they are in IEYTD 3 yet, so for now just imagine more scarring, longer hair, and a metallic arm from the elbow onwards.

Now, enough about their physical description, now it’s time for more on their mental state(s). After the DE Incident, Phoenix refused to actually dive into their emotions about losing a leg and nearly dying and instead preoccupied themselves with learning to use their new prosthetic and getting well again so they could return to field work. They don’t like to be alone with their thoughts for too long otherwise they start to spiral to a bad place so they’re always listening to some kind of music (a radio, headphones, humming/singing a song to themselves, or just replaying songs in their head). Handler helps them with this and pulls them back to the present every so often. Phoenix also once received an anonymous gift package that contained some very comfy and good quality earbuds (three guesses as to who sent them). They weren’t too surprised by Juniper’s twist of actually being evil (they had an icky feeling about the slimeball ever since they heard his tone in his call during their mission briefing for Jet Set). During Safe and Sound (and by extension, the tutorial), Phoenix gets a sinking feeling that Handler was never truly with the Agency and had betrayed them until Juniper revealed his act. Phoenix is furious with him for toying with them like that and mentally kick themselves for falling for it and for allowing themselves to get that attached to Handler (it’s like a taboo/rule at the Agency for handler and agents to not get connected (they don’t have the budget for employee therapy)).

More random tidbits about them and some other stuff that I couldn’t work into the above paragraphs:

- JJ carries a comb in his pocket at all times because he wants to make sure he always looks good (the smug look on his face undercuts the effect)

- JJ’s hair is more on the side of fluffy/soft but when he slicks it back it looks thinner and more wiry

- Phoenix’s color before getting their TK was a darker blue

- Handler’s favorite flowers were marigolds but after Jet Set, he refuses to have any near him

- Before becoming a handler, Handler’s color was more of an orange before mellowing out to a golden yellow after his retirement from field work

- Phoenix and Handler are injured in opposite legs, to which Handler teases them about them becoming an old man like him (he’s not old, about mid/late 40s-ish, idk)

- Phoenix is around 5’8 while Handler is a little under 5’6

- The Agency trains agents with the implant to use a sort of pointing finger gesture to use their powers but they can develop their own hand sign/gesture that better suits them. The pointer finger is generally effective for everyone but is limited in the sense that the user can’t pick up/float heavy objects. Once agents find a gesture that works best for them, they’re able to lift larger objects (like other people, crates, chairs, etc.). Phoenix has yet to find their gesture

- Background characters do not get a color and are either solid black if they’re with Zoraxis or black with grey or muted gold accents if they’re with the Agency

- Phoenix can and does use their powers in their daily life when they’re off the clock. They use them while cooking to hover ingredients nearby, picking out clothes so that they don’t end up wrinkled on the ground, looking through reports on previous missions to study Zoraxis’ preferred attack methods (explosions, guns, darts, etc.), to grab things from high shelves or faraway, etc. They’re really casual about using it and have to stop themselves from doing it when they go out in public (unless no one’s looking)

- Phoenix isn’t a bad cook, they just like to burn their food on purpose (they like the taste and it annoys Handler)

- Handler is a good cook and gets ticked off whenever Phoenix burns food

- Songs that fit Handler: From The Start by Laufey, The World We Knew and My Way of Life by Frank Sinatra, No More by Manfred Minnich, Nothing by Bruno Major, Slow Summer Swing by Essential Jazz Masters, The Lamp is Low by Laurindo Almeida

- Songs that fit Phoenix: Skeleton Song by Kate Nash, Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny, Leave Me Alone by IDKHOW, Debt Collector, Bad Luck!, and Pressure Bomb 3?!?! by Jhariah (Beginner’s Guide versions), My Way by Frank Sinatra, This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory (thanks @dieing-lilac for sending me some of these <3)

The songs are a mix of songs from ones that fit their general vibes to ones where the lyrics are accurate (to some degree) of their emotions (Phoenix’s especially). 10/10 songs go check them out if you can

Also the way that character colors work for my style/designs is that it’s an artistic choice to color characters’ details rather than their scars/eyebrows/tongues literally being something like blue or green. A character’s color is a reflection of their personality, characteristics, and general feel that I get from them, with the exception of if a character already has a canonical color (like John Juniper and Roxana Prism). Handler is golden yellow because he seems warm and he likes/liked scotch and marigolds, as well as his subtitle color in IEYTD 1 being yellow (albeit a different shade). Zor is red and gold because Zoraxis is also red and gold so it just makes sense that they would have the same colors as their corporation (also the cliché that red=evil, that whole thing). Phoenix is cyan because of their powers and it fits their personality more than red or any other color would. I don’t really have a reason for why Fabricator would be indigo other than her polaroid pic’s lighting looks dark blue/indigo and that it just makes sense to me. Solaris would be orange because of her love for lasers and because her name makes me think of a glowing ember orange. The more of an impact a character has on the story, the brighter/more saturated their color is (Ex: Daniel Sans would have a muted yellow-green and Anna Ulanova would have a muted maroon because they both don’t appear much but aren’t unimportant).

I think that’s all I have for now, but some of Handler and Phoenix’s characterization can’t really be accurately described without just showing them in their element, so I’m thinking of maybe writing a little story about how Phoenix joined the Agency, how their training went, how they got the implant, and how the events of IEYTD 1 and 2 went with them :) No promises though as I’ll have to find time to plan it out, but if I ever do it I’ll be sure to put it on wattpad or ao3 or something, I’ve never posted a story anywhere before so we’ll see how it goes

Enough of my rambling, I set you readers who made it this far free <33 also here’s something for having made it all the way to the end: 🍬

[unofficialadamtaurus]

(Short Version) Give Me Death Chapter 1 in a nutshell:

(Long Version)

Hi Ares, I read chapter 1 of your 'Give Me Death' fic and overall impressions are that I was right to view this as a heart wrenching tale that would readily put a beloved character and cast through emotional turmoil which in turn is gonna keep me up at night (Admittedly not a hard task but the sentiment still stands).

I really liked how you framed Adam's headspace (ah, to be the very thing you hated >_<;) from beginning to end. His battle honed instincts and self awareness while doing horrendous things seemingly beyond his control right off the bat sets quite the precedent of what to expect in later chapters (more faunus deaths, survivors coming back for revenge, word being spread to the rest of the white fang, etc) but one I can stomach and respect to show ending lives and hopefully the consequences that come with that. I mean ruby having to step over two bodies to reach Weiss?! OAO; It paints a bloody picture.

The girls had a small amount of screen time split among the four of them but I think you utilised it well. Every word they said, I could hear it in my head. Every action you saw fit to have each one show felt as if I could see it with my own two eyes. Their personalities take me back to volume 1 with the limitless potential of what they could do yet their characterisation here is clearly different showing a peek into how they have developed as a team (Weiss bawling on the ground in clear view of others? Blake and Ruby comforting someone they would have kept a distance from at an earlier time? Yang. . . ok there's not much I can say about her but it's simply nice to see her in denial instead of blatant anger). I was not expecting to have uncle qrow (He is like on a list of people I wasn't expecting to even be name dropped in this fic) mentioned but consider me intrigued. Now here are my fav lines and first reaction to them~

Fav lines: 'Adam knows oblivion. He didn't used to; for twenty-three years of life, it was a concept and nothing more.' (Adam with a clear set age in the opening of a fic? Oh this is already gaining a point in my favour).

'By its very nature it is unknowable until he is, at once and without warning, exhumed from it. Sensation crashes through his spinning mind: the ground under his boots, the weight and feel of his clothes, the air rushing into his lungs when he pulls in a reflexive breath.' (This is reminding me alot of when a character got ripped away from her 'afterlife' and believe me when I say that is a compliment.).

'The ghost of Adam Taurus breaks apart into glittering flakes of snow that just as quickly disappear.' (He's pretty. He's sad. You've made him pretty sad).

'Adam knows oblivion and so he knows that this suffocating void isn't it. Within the emptiness in and of himself there is a single anchor. A point of thready white light wrapped around some concept of him.' (I love these three lines, it's giving me 'soul' vibes with the abstract perception of what an individual being is :D).

*claps* OK I'm going to go pass out now with thoughts of reading and reviewing chapter 2 <3

Oh that's a very long version. I'm delighted by that :D

Yeah, I was very proud of that "Adam knows oblivion" blurb. It felt very impactful.

"Pretty sad" is now the official title of that flowers-from-the-face art piece I made the cover art lol

Thanks for taking the time to write such a long review! I'm glad you're enjoying what you've read so far. Not to belittle the later chapters, but I think the first is by far the strongest of the lot. I hope you enjoy the pain that follows :)

[altr5312916195]

EgoTober Notes and Master List

Hey Gamers! So @tracobuttons has dropped the Egotober prompt list and this year, I'll be writing again. I've been writing for Egotober since it was started but in years past I only got a few out, there was no cohesive story. Last year I actually wrote every day and it got a lot more attention than I expected. Last year I had a coherent storyline, and because all stories were left on cliff hangers I'm going to continue with it during this year.

One thing that happened last year though was a lot of people asking me how my universe worked around the Septic and Iplier Egos and this post will serve as that information post.

So, here is my Egotober Masterlist and notes guide to Raspy Hill!

What Egos exist in my canon?

In the Iplier Manor: Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache, The Jims, King of the Squirrels (Kos, prounounced cause, for short) Yancy, Google, Bing, YandereIplier (Yani, pronounced -yuh-ann-ee, for short), Annus, Heehoo, Actor!Mark (Mark Iplier), really anyone conistently seen post Markiplier TV

In the Septic House: JackieBoyMan, Henrik Von Schneeplestien, Anti, Chase, Marvin, Jameson Jackson, and Robbie.

Where do the Egos exist?

Depending on the Ego they will live full time in Raspy Hill. All of the Iplier Egos are confided to Raspy Hill because of Mark, save for Wilford and Dark who are able to leave the confines for short periods.

The Septic Egos are more of a case by case thing, for instance, Chase and Jackie live in the subdivision of Attitude City, LA (yes that Attitude City) Henrik works in LA as well, at IRIS facilites.

Marvin, Jamie, and Robbie stay in Raspy Hill due to needing its magic to survive.

What is Raspy Hill?

You know that theory that's like "if humans believe in something enough it's real" keep that in mind.

In my canon Mark and Sean do exist. While Sean is connected to the Septic Egos in more of a magic way. They need someone human to tell their stories and connected them to the normal realm. (This is where that theory comes in) Raspy Hill is their inherent home, so if Jack stops telling their stories and fans stop caring they can become confined to Raspy Hill or even disappear all together.

But the Iplier Egos are different, they are anchored to Mark Iplier. Iplier was reincarnated in our Mark, and if his spirit persists so do the Ipliers.

Eclipse, what the fuck is a Hybrid and what is the Edge?

Hybrids exist at the Edge of Raspy Hill, the Edge is exactly as it sounds. Where the dimesion of Raspy Hill drops and time ceases to exist. The Edge is it's own space in time, Annus rules this area.

Around the Edge is the foundation of Raspy Hill, which has some cracks and through these cracks comes an unfinished energy. The Egos are sustained on this energy. Sometimes things slip out and these are the Hybrids, half formed egos lost to time. They're dog like creatures covered in eyes of egos past and present. Yani started as a Hybrid and completely formed by sheer will of spirit.

If you're curious about anything else, just shoot me a message or an Ask. :)

Egotober '22 Master List

October 1 - Hoodie - JackieBoyMan (TWs: None)

October 2 - Leaves - Chase Brody (TWs:None)

October 3 - Ink - Jamesone Jackson (TWs:None)

October 4 - Grey - Jameson Jackson (TWs:Anxious thoughts)

October 5 - Water - Chase Brody (TWs: Allusions to car crash and drowning)

October 6 - Doctor - Henrik Von Schneeplestien, Antisepticeye (TWs: None)

October 7 - Peaceful - Chase Brody (TWs: Allusion to car crash)

October 8 - Key - Darkiplier (TWs:None)

October 9 - Shattered - Darkiplier (TWs: None)

October 10

October 11 - Game - Chase Brody (TWs: None)

October 12 - Metal - Henrik and Chase Brody (TWs: mentions of dissasociation, mentions of blood)

October 13 - Sky - Chase Brody (TWs: Mentions of blood, Allusion to past self harm, falling)

October 14

October 15 - Plant - Jameson Jackson, Marvin the Magnificent (TWs: None)

October 16 - Dragon - Marvin (TWs:None)

October 17 - Path - Darkiplier (TWs:None)

October 18 - Wings - Darkiplier (TWs:None)

October 19

October 20 - Alarm - Henrik, Chase Brody (TWs:Mentions of blood)

October 21 - IRIS - Henrik, Chase Brody (TWs: Mentions of blood and vomit)

October 22 - Buried - Jameson Jackson, Robbie the Zombie (TWs:None)

October 23

October 24 - Creepy - Robbie, Jameson Jackson (TWs:None)

October 25 - Magic - Marvin, Antisepticeye (TWs:Mentions of burning/being burnt, knife mention)

October 26 - Bones - Wilford Warfstache, Darkiplier (TWs:None)

October 27 - Expirement - Henrik, Chase Brody (TWs:None)

October 28 - Purple - Jamie, Robbie, Jackie (TWs: Mentions of burning/being burnt)

October 29 - Ghost - Dark, Wilford (TWs:None)

October 30 - Pumpkin - Chase Brody (TWs: Mentions of drugging)

October 31 - Happy Halloween - Chase Brody (TWs:Allusion to falling, dissasociation)

Egotober 23' Masterlist

October 1 - Cape - JackieBoyMan

October 2 - Stone - Marvin (TWs: mentions of blood)

October 3 - Drink - Chase Brody (TWs: Allusions to substance abuse)

October 4 - Happy - Chase Brody (TWs: Mentions of drugging)

October 5 - Jar - Marvin

October 6 - Pillow - Chase Brody

October 7 - Leaves - Chase Brody

October 8- Frame - Henrik Von Schneeplestien

October 9 - Antlers - Marvin

October 10 - Glitch - AntiSepticEye

October 11 - Metal - AntiSepticEye, Henrik Von Schneeplestien (TWs: Implied drugging)

October 12 - Green - AntiSepticEye

October 13 - Mirror - Darkiplier

October 14 - Time - Wilford Warfstache

October 15 - Strong - JackieBoyMan, Chase Brody

October 16 - Cards - Marvin

October 17 - Flower - Robbie the Zombie, Jameson Jackson

October 18 - Rage - Wilford Warfstache (TWs: confusion/dissasociation)

October 19 - Silver - Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache

October 20 - Music - Wilford Warfstache

October 21 - Shadow - Marvin

October 22 - Vampire - Yani, Bingiplier

October 23 - Web - Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache, Mark Iplier

October 24 - Fire - The House

October 25 - Cauldron - Marvin

October 26 - Werewolf - Bingiplier, Yani

October 27 - Orange - Darkiplier

October 28 - Ghost - Wilford Warfstache

October 29 - Fright - AntiSepticEye (TWs: Mild body horror, blood, religious allusions)

October 30 - Witch - Marvin (TWs: Allusion of gore)

October 31 - Happy Halloween (TWs: Blood)

Egotober '24 Masterlist

October 1 - Puppet - AntiSepticEye, Henrik Von Schneeplestien, Marvin, JackieBoyMan

October 2 - Bird - Darkiplier, Marvin, AntiSepticEye

October 3 - Jewel - Marvin, AntiSepticEye, JackieBoy-Man

October 4 - Fluffy - Dark, Wilford Warfstache, Yani, Bing, Chase Brody

October 5 - Calm - Dark, Yani, Chase Brody, Wilford Warfstache, Bingiplier

October 6 - Bubbles - Marvin, AntiSepticEye, JackieBoy-Man, Darkiplkier, Kos

October 7 - Power - Marvin, JackieBoy Man, Dark, AntiSepticEye, Kos

October 8 - Skateboard - Chase Brody, Bing, Yani, Wilford Warfstache

October 9 - Red - AntiSepticEye, Dark, Marvin, JackieBoy-Man

October 10 - Virus - AntiSepticEye, Chase Brody, Marvin, Henrik Von Schneeplestien

October 11 - Book - Marvin, Henrik Von Schneeplestien, JackieBoy Man

October 12 - Portal - Marvin, Henrik Von Schneeplestien, JackieBoy Man, Darkiplier, AntiSepticEye

October 13 - Clock work - Dark, Wilford Warfstache, Y/N

October 14 - Blue - Dark, Damien, Celine, Y/N

October 15 - Scarecrow - Yani, Wilford, Bing, Chase Brody, Damien, JackieBoy-Man, Henrik Von Schneeplestien

October 16 - Mask - JackieBoy Man, AntiSepticEye, Marvin

October 17 - Inky - Jameson Jackson, AntiSepticEye, Marvin

October 18 - Yellow - Bing, Yani, Dark, Wilford, Google

October 19 - Antique - Dark, Wilford

October 20 - Grim Reaper - AntiSepticEye

October 21 - Potion - Marvin, Chase Brody, Henrik, Damien

October 22 - Haunted - Chase Brody, AntiSepticEye

October 23 - Eyeballs - AntiSepticEye, Marvin, Chase Brody, JackieBoy Man, Henrik Von Schneeplestien

October 24 - Demon - AntiSepticEye, Henrik, Damien, Marvin, Kos

October 25 - Grave - AntiSepticEye, Marvin, JackieBoy-Man

October 26 - Spell - Marvin, Jameson, AntiSepticEye

October 27 - Ghoul - AntiSepticEye, Marvin, Henrik Von Schneeplestien, Dark, Kos

October 28 - Creepy - AntiSepticEye, Marvin, Dark, Wilford, Yani

October 29 - Mummy - Yani, Dark, Robbie, Jameson

October 30 - Purple - Robbie, Jameson

October 31 - Happy Halloween - AntiSepticEye, Marvin, JackieBoy Man, Dark, Kos

[artemisofmars]

As promised, here's my NZ pic spam! This will be installment 1 of a few, I have a lot of pics. I'll go in chronological order and Hobbiton was the last thing we hit, so you'll have to wait for that one for a little bit, (sorry not sorry I like building suspense).

Anyway, without further ado...

Enrica in Aotearoa New Zealand Part 1: Northland (Episode 1)

Did you know that renowned Austrian artist Hundertwasser lived in NZ for like 30 years? Here's one of his creations, which is now part of the Whangarei Art Museum

Our first stop after departing Whangarei was in a quiet little cove before the coast opens up to the ocean. Literally a couple of minutes after we dropped anchor, a couple of orcas showed up and made a circuit around the cove! Unfortunately I wasn't able to get any pictures of them but I promise, they were there.

Tutukaka had some awesome trails to explore, though we had to stop short because high tide covers the beach you need to cross to get to the next part of the trail. (My body was very grateful for that it looked steep af on the other side)

In Whangamumu Bay we checked out the remains of the old whaling station and found this cool-ass waterfall!

On our way to the Bay of Islands, we passed this awesome rock formation, aptly named The Hole in the Rock. If you have a small enough boat, you can even go through it!

Did you know that there are several penguin species that can be found in different parts of New Zealand? In our anchorage in Whangamumu, we saw Blue Penguins, and let me tell you, they are so. little. I hope I see them again one day, they are so adorable it hurts my heart.

Thanks for scrolling this far and check back soon for Episode 2!

Find Part 2 here

[fic-adict]

Draco x Reader

It's Us Against The World

Ch.2

Read Pt.1 here

Also Read On AO3:

She found him in the bathroom. Bent over the toilet seat, emptying the remainder of dinner from his stomach. Y/n crouched down on the floor beside him, leaning against the sink and gently began rubbing small circles on his back. The rhythmic motions eventually nulled the tension at his shoulders and Draco felt himself relax, allowing the delicate movements to ease away the remaining stress.

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, one of them hunched over, mentally withdrawing from the latest traumatic event while the other tries to coax in what little comfort they could offer. Not to say that this was the foundation of all their interactions, but it was a comfort knowing that there was an anchor, as damaged and rusted as the other, ready to ground you back. Once y/n was sure that there was nothing else for his stomach to dispose of, she gently urged Draco to sit on the bathtub ledge and began dabbing at his mouth with a damp washcloth.

"Feeling better now?" she questioned, tilting his face towards her own to get a better angle.

Her answer was a small, silent nod. He now seemed intent on gazing at her, trailing after her eyes as she pretended to focus on wiping away the residue at the corners of his mouth and not the way she felt his arms tremble beneath her. Draco always tended to become somewhat disconnected from his surrounding whenever one of these ordeals came to pass. It was as if his mind was in a haze, forcing everything to fade out to the background while it picked up the pieces. That often lead to some out-of-character behaviors slipping through.

Draco reached for the hand on his cheek and guided it to drop the cloth before bringing it back to cup his face, letting out a short satisfied hum as he pressed against her palms and closed his eyes.

It wasn't as if physical contact was unusual between them, they'd held each other before, bumped shoulders and let hands brush and linger. Often when gathered around for another of the Dark Lord's parades and developments became a little too overwhelming, where the only real sense of security they craved could come from one another, resulting in substitute touches under tables or held hands hidden behind backs. Y/n knew that in those moments it was comfort he craved, his subconscious allowing him to be much more forward with his emotions than he'd probably like to admit in a more sober state. She always reciprocated, encouraged him even to let out long agitated rants or voice otherwise contained horrors providing whatever sort of physical closeness necessary, crouching next to each other shoulder to shoulder or squeezing their interlocking hands in support. But whenever his actions boarded on affectionate she always froze solid, the intimate gestures alien compared to the arms-length affection received by all others. It caused her to shut down momentarily, appearing stoic and unfeeling when in reality she was honestly struggling to register the foreign situation. And somehow having a naturally cold demeanor due to a neglectful childhood socialization didn't aid her situation.

Despite that, y/n continued to follow his movements as his thumb stroked her wrist, then shifted his face slightly to press a kiss onto her palm. It was at that moment that Draco became seemingly aware of his actions, eyes suddenly shooting open, panic filling his features as his vision flickered between their hands and her nonchalant expression. Y/n's unbothered façade only seemed to heighten his embarrassment at being caught up in yet another unintentional affection, again. She smiled as his cheeks grew pink, able to feel the heat radiating onto her fingers as her palm remained pressed against his lips. He carefully pried his face from her hand, letting it hover in the air between them for a second, unsure of how to de-escalate the humiliating situation he'd placed himself in.

It was always entertaining to watch Draco grow flustered after another embarrassing episode, his usually sarcastic demeanor buried underneath blushes and mountains of apologies. But this time he stared down at the floor, allowing the mortification to sweep over him.

One method of reducing his self-conscious state was countering it with her own roundabout affection which always seemed to work wonders as her actions equally balanced out his humiliation. So with that, y/n brought his still interlocked hand to her lips and pressed a firm kiss all the while training her eyes onto his own for what felt like an hour compressed to a single second. The raging flame that now re-graced his startled expression caused y/n to practically grin against the kiss, endlessly entertained by the spectrum of crimson he always seemed to have on display. Draco opened his mouth to say something but no coherent letter formation seemed to pass through the air between them and so he promptly decided on closing it again.

Y/n steadily raised her head and nonchalantly reached to pick up the disinfectant sitting above the sink next to them and started dabbing at the dried blood that had caked to form little crescent moons on his now open palm that she still held, continuing to patch him up as though Thor's thunderous equivalence of electrifying tension hadn't just passed between them.

"It's just a little friendly affection" she reasoned, deciding to be the first to break the all encompassing silence, and grant him what she belied to be some relief to his humiliation. Y/n's entertainment relied heavily on Draco's widely reverting reactions. However it was more of a personal mission for y/n to try derail him from spiraling down into a depressive episode after an uneventful evening with the other members, a wave of relief and a sense of stability always followed once she saw Draco start to gradually shift back to his usual character.

"Might no seem so platonic if someone were to walk through" He muttered.

She paused her motions for a second, his unusual commentary breaking her out of her internal monologuing session. She had expected him to jump onto her good natured teasing and attempt to counter it with his own. However much to y/n's obliviousness it seemed now that he was nudging for something else between their blurred limits of friendship but naturally instead of picking up on these subtle hints which had recently become much less subtle he realized, she decided to lean back in to their usual teasing banter.

"I wont tell if you don't"

".....deal" was all he could seem to muster after several beats of silence, the air thick with the humidifying tension of words unspoken, that and the steam that had been gradually building up from his bouts of fiery blushes.

He finally turned his head away to face the casement windows beside them and rested his chin onto (his own) palm, fighting to control the fresh shade of cherry flaming his ears.

So much for roundabout affections.

[piratefalls]

WIP title game! I was tagged by @ereborne!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

the list of things I've left unfinished is short, so I'll include a snippet with each one. it's also 85% mcdanno lmao.

Give Me a Memory I Can Use (McDanno, finale fix-it)

“Hey, Steve?” He looks down to see her smiling. “Be happy.” He returns her smile. “Hey Cath?” “Yeah?” “I think it’s my turn to walk away.” This time she grins. “I think so too.” So he pulls his bag from the bin, and does.

Share the Scars From Our Abandon (Person of Interest/Rinch, post-series)

Night after night he reaches out for something, anything, to soothe the ever-present ache under his ribs, the one that calls to him when the sun goes down, reminds him that he has family, love, a home somewhere out there, wishing he were in it right now, if only he’d seek it out. The one that reminds him that human connection does not have to be a foreign concept any longer, that it is instead a patchwork quilt of messy, complicated, beautiful people to call his, the place where he drops anchor and floats steady. His body, so broken in so many ways, can now recall a touch that does not hurt, the smell of fresh brewed coffee and old books, the sound of a heart that beats in time with his own.

Untitled Finale Fix-it #2 (McDanno)

His buddy introduces him to the group, since he's apparently a legend. He talks about his life post-SEALs. Later his friend would learn Steve hadn't retired but had been medically discharged. "Got shot. A lot," he says. "Needed a liver transplant." "How did you get one that fast? Anyone with half a brain cell could figure out those odds, factoring in the fact that you were on an island." And then he tells him about Danny, and the plane, that he'd saved Steve's life more than once that day. "Fuck." Steve laughs. "Pretty much."

super rough jotted down ideas for Ace!Henry FirstPrince (RWRB)

They do talk about how to navigate physical intimacy. Henry loves touch, craves it, wants to be wrapped up in and around Alex as often as possible, his breathing slowing to match the steady rhythm of Alex's heart under his cheek as they cuddle in bed. Holding hands, carding his fingers through Alex's hair, always touching touching touching. That's never been his problem. It's everything that's supposed to come after that gives him pause.

5+1 play on the practice of kintsugi (McDanno)

Three days later he listens to his father die over the phone. his whole team is dead, Anton Hesse is dead, everyone is dead. Freddie died and it was all for nothing. Freddie, the keeper of Steve's darkest secrets, the person who kept him tethered to the real world when all he'd wanted to do was fly apart, had sacrificed it all just to be given oblivion. A piece of Steve's heart is anchored somewhere in the middle of a North Korean jungle. He could give you the exact coordinates, but he won't. He doesn't want it back.

Can You Do It? (You Bet Jurassican) (buddie velocipastor au) (if you haven't watched the movie this will make less than zero sense)

No, Eddie Diaz - father, firefighter, combat veteran, boyfriend to an actual fucking dinosaur - is wearing a stretchy orange dress that, after he gets it all the way down, barely hits mid-thigh. Before he has a chance to pull it off and look for literally anything else, Buck comes around the corner and stops in his tracks. “Jinkies.” “Fuck you.” Buck gives him a quick look up and down and shrugs. “Fine with me. If I’m being honest Velma always lowkey gave me top vibes.” And that’s a discussion he’s not touching. “You’re an idiot and I hate everything you choose to be.” “Now that’s a lie and we both know it,” he replies.

no one has to participate, but if you do please tag me!

[justtellher]

Fic Update: give me peace (in a lifetime of war)

Drops chapter two onto your dash. At first this chapter gave me a bit of a struggle, it's one of the only few I didn't have already plotted out, yet was so necessary to get us firmly into the story. In the end, I finally figured out where Aziraphale wanted to start his side of this tale--I only had to watch and cry through the last 15 minutes of Season 2 about 30 times to get it right. Send tissues.

As always you can find the fic here on ao3.

Summary: A Story of the Second Coming, or How an Angel & a Demon Find Their Way Back to Each Other and Maybe Save the World Along the Way.

Prologue | Chapter 1

---

Chapter 2: do you know i could break (of the goodness, love)

He’s not sure how long he stands in the middle of the bookshop, unmoving, a trembling hand pressed to his lips. His legs have turned leaden, anchoring him to the worn wood floors, and he stares blankly at the now closed door, his chest a painful flutter of warring emotions. He wants to run after him; he wants to hide for another 6000 years; he wants the firm press of Crowley’s lips against his again; he wants to never again feel this kind of temptation.  In short, Aziraphale wants.

And isn’t that the crux of the problem?

Do that again.

His heart pounds as he fights simultaneous guilt and elation, cursing Crowley mildly for deciding to show his hand at what might possibly be the worst timing in their shared existence.  Because what was he supposed to do now?  How is he supposed to reconcile this chance for change with the overwhelming desire he has to run out into the street and grab the confusing demon he calls his friend and beg him to do it again.  To kiss him again and again until Aziraphale can make sense of the fluttering in his chest and the burning of his lips.  It took everything in him to repress the words in the moment, to tamp them down while he grappled for just a moment to think. In their stead, he’d fumbled at half processed words of forgiveness.  A misnomer, he realized as soon as the words left his mouth.  The only person in the room who needs forgiveness is Aziraphale himself. 

Because, oh, for an angel to want this much, it must surely be a sin.  

A shimmer of sunlight catches his eye, and his gaze wanders over to the window as he releases an uncertain breath; which his lungs then immediately attempt to reclaim on a sharp inhale as he takes note of the lanky figure leaning heavily against the Bentley, all sharp angles and red hair.  Crowley’s eyes are hidden behind his usual dark frames, but Aziraphale feels the intensity of them all the same as the demon watches the shop with a sort of resigned sadness.  Honestly, Aziraphale is surprised to find him waiting there at all.  

He never leaves first, you know that, a small voice inside him chimes, and the truth of it is a knife stabbed deep into his gut and another tally in the list of his sins that only seems to grow. It’s a verity he’s always known even when his mind attempts to ignore it: Crowley has never left him.  Aziraphale is always the one to push away first, to reset the distance between them lest anyone take note of its shrinking.  Crowley would gladly keep pushing forward, a reckless fixture at Aziraphale’s side even at the threat of his own existence, while Aziraphale struggles to keep a careful tab on measured space and attempts to be a voice of reason that keeps them alive another day.  No, Crowley will never truly leave unless Aziraphale does first.  

I need you.

If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to leave.  He’s so tired of separation.

Tell me you said no.

He replays their argument over in his head and tries to understand his own mind.  It’s a good thing right?  The Metatron’s offer would allow them to really fix things in Heaven.  Surely Crowley was just being too stubborn to realize the opportunity they were being given to influence how the show was truly being run; to share their perspective on how to serve humanity without the need to end it all.  

To finally be valued for the differences they had forever been derided for.  

I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.

Wasn’t that the whole point of it all? If Heaven could accept Beelzebub and Gabriel seeing the beauty in each other and let them be, then didn’t that mean that they were finally ready for change?  Why else would the Metatron offer the highest ranking position of heaven to the angel who was already most like his predecessor if they didn’t see the value in their shared opinions? He glances again through the window; perhaps he should go try to speak to (and definitely not kiss) Crowley again—get him to see his misunderstanding. 

I think I understand a whole lot better than you.

The memory makes him want to stamp his foot slightly in frustration because he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that line.  What chess piece is he supposedly missing, and why didn’t he press Crowley to explain rather than let himself get distracted by the sadness of the demon’s yellow eyes and the temptation of his frenetic lips.  He glances toward the door again and presses a still shaky hand to his mouth once more.

You idiot.

In this moment he rather feels like one.  

The bell above the shop jingles softly into the silence, and for a moment his heart gives a hopeful lurch, positive that it’s Crowley, come back from his brooding across the street and ready to plan this out together, only to shutter rapidly in his chest at the wizened figure of the Metatron as he steps confidently into the shop.  Aziraphale turns away quickly and tries to force his countenance into some semblance of composure.  

“How did he take it?”

He fights a sudden urge to laugh or cry hysterically, unsure of which to choose.  “Uh not well,” he settles on a disparaging chuckle as he turns back around. 

The Metatron seems unfazed by this gaping breach in Aziraphale’s orbit, “Ah, well, always did want to go his own way.” 

We need to get away from them, just be an us.

Aziraphale swallows the sudden lump in his throat and gives into the urge to look back through the side window at Crowley.  Our way, he finds his mind automatically correcting, and he startles slightly as he glances nervously back at the Voice of God as he continues to talk, Aziraphale only catching something about questions as his gaze is pulled magnetically back to his demonic counterpart across the street, thoughts spinning.  When had that become a habit he’d let slip in?  This universal entanglement of ours in his speech? He’s not sure they ever talked about it. 

Did Crowley not realize they were already an us?

“Right, ready to start?”  The Metratron’s voice startles him back to the present, his face expectant as he looks at the floundering angel. 

“I��”  Aziraphale stutters, feeling a bit unmoored as to how he seemed to have officially agreed to this position, and oh, shouldn’t this question be easy?  He should be ready right?  He’s an angel of the Lord, his highest calling is to serve, this shouldn’t even be a contemplation, only a quick affirmative.  He flails haplessly, watery eyes flitting around the bookshop as the rigid guilt of his mind tries to convince the traitorous pounding of his heart.  

“...but um…my bookshop,” he offers up uselessly, trying to buy himself a moment more to think, even though he’s not sure how long it’s going to take to reconcile this sinking feeling in his gut.  The Metratron easily deflects his excuse with some comment about Muriel watching over it that Aziraphale barely registers as he glances helplessly back through the window at the unmoving demon, and realizes he may never be able to rectify how this all got so horribly muddled.  

“But..” he murmurs, no longer sure of what he’s protesting.  

He could stand here until the end of time and never have an answer for this warring anguish between his holy duties and his selfish wants.  

“Anything you need to take with you?”  Metatron implores.

Yes, his heart whispers.  Everything, him, Us.  “No,” his propriety wins the minor skirmish over his tongue.  He forces his gaze back to the angel in front of him, and wills himself not to cry.  

We could have been…us.

He’s going to have to do this without him, Aziraphale realizes. Crowley made it clear that he didn’t want to join him, so if Aziraphale wants to serve his purpose and fulfill this role he’s going to have to do it alone. He would never force his friend to go somewhere he so vehemently opposes.  No matter how much he desperately wishes to indulge his gluttony and have both.  

“Nothing I can think of,” he continues. Lies, his heart volleys in retort.  

“Ah,” the Metatron murmurs contently, turning without further preamble to depart the shop.  Aziraphale feels the expected pressure to follow behind him like a stone slab heavy upon his chest, crushing the air from his lungs.  He can’t help but steal another glance through the window.  

“I think I–,” he starts suddenly, stepping forward with a lurch, because damn him, but he can’t do this. This can’t be right. He glances again at the window, at the unwavering constant of his life who is still standing, unmoving, a sad hunch in his shoulders. Why is he even doing this without him?  He doesn’t want to do this without him.

He’s breaking his own heart. 

But maybe he’s supposed to? He wavers and cuts himself off mid step. Because he’s supposed to say no to the demon and yes to Heaven, right?  If they’re at odds, he’s supposed to want to do the right thing and help fix the broken system that’s asking for his help.  He’s supposed to put righteousness above his own desires or at least go along as best he could, no?  Even if Crowley couldn’t see the bigger impetus or picture, Aziraphale had to try, yes?  To give into the quiet temptation of his own heart would surely be wrong by both their standards. 

Angelic guilt settles over him, a reasoning he expected to feel more like a soothing salve rather than metallic prison, but he forces himself to smile.  He could do this.  For the sake of good for them all, he could do this.  And then surely, he could get back to his quiet life and selfish wants. Provided those wants were still willing to speak with him. He takes a steadying breath.

“Nothing at all,” he finishes, blinking away any remaining vestiges of tears, and then forces himself to walk out of the bookshop. 

Outside Soho is a clutter of people, a tumultuously wonderful display of humanity, as he trudges the seemingly infinite block to the Lift.  His steps are heavy and the gnawing in his stomach rises to a rather worrying level as he pushes forward.  

It takes thirty-seven steps to reach the Lift, and every single one of them feels more and more wrong. 

“Well, I can’t think of a better angel–,” the Metatron chatters idly, and Aziraphale might feel flattered, except he can think of better angels.  One of them is currently burning through the soft fabric of his jacket with the force of his gaze across the way.  Not that Heaven would see it like that.  

Come with me.

We can make a difference.  

Oh, how he had wanted to change that for them, make them see what they had given up.  

“--to wrap things up, and to set into motion the next step in the Great Plan,” the Voice of God continues, and Aziraphale’s mind ceases its dithering as it focuses on the Metatron’s words. 

“Um, yes, you mentioned that,” he inquires as they stop just outside the Lift, “Can I know what it is?”  Maybe this will give him the clarity he needs to stop himself from turning around and running from the wrongness settling into his bones, the despair he feels raging against his ribs. 

“Well, it’s something we need an angel of your talents to direct,” he notices how the Metatron doesn’t meet his eyes fully on the flattery, but tries to take no heed of it.  After all, change is hard; he’s rather terrible at it himself, “An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth.” 

“Ah,” he murmurs.  See, he attempts to soothe himself, this is the point, the divine mission.  Aziraphale can make a difference with his angelic duties.  It’s almost enough to tamp down the ache of his chest. Then, the Metatron turns around to open the Lift as he delivers a final line,

“We call it the Second Coming.”

Aziraphale feels his heart freeze in his chest as his mind draws a panicked blank.

When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it’ll be just as dead as if Hell ended it. 

Oh God, he was so wrong.  Crowley was absolutely right.  His mind reels and his heart gives a feeble attempt at continuing to beat while he vaguely remembers to take shallow breaths.  He should turn around now; supposed holy purposes be damned.  The Metatron gives him a raised eyebrows glance of come along now, and all of Aziraphale’s instincts scream at him to run–his head and heart in a temporary truce of agreement.

He makes a stuttered turn of his head to the one person he’s been trying valiantly not to look at since leaving the bookshop.  Crowley’s stare is resigned, steady, and practically unreadable behind dark lenses, and Aziraphale is going to owe him so many apology dances for this monumental fuck up of logic. He contemplates how he’s going to leave this situation gracefully, sending up a small prayer of thanks to Crowley for always waiting him out as it means at least the Bentley is still here.

He’ll never be safe now.

The thought whispers with the force of an omen, and Aziraphale stands frozen and bereft, a wild animal caught in the snare of his own sudden realization.  Heaven will never let them live if they think he and Crowley will stand against them again. He takes an aborted glimpse at his steadfast friend, who will never let him face Heaven alone once he knows about this plan.  Heaven will never let Crowley live.  His vision swims slightly while his stomach lurches with the crash of nauseating reality, and Oh, he does have a purpose he finds, a calling written so strongly in his veins that it’s easy to decide, simple to choose.  It’s not heavenly at all; instead it’s long-limbed and red haired; it’s 6,000 years of existence spent in parallel to a dastardly, funny, and good demon, and Aziraphale now understands he will do anything to make sure Crowley stays that way.  Safe and alive. 

Even if it means damning himself. 

He squares his shoulders and takes one last deep breath of the warm, love drenched air he’s come to think of as the general background scent of Earth, ignoring the gentle pang in his chest and the welling of his eyes for how much he’ll miss it all, and steps forward into the Lift with a newly determined ease.  

The doors slide closed. Beside him, the Metatron gives him a sideways glance and sigh that belies some underlying relief.  No doubt, he thinks he’s succeeded in bringing a righteous Angel back into the fold for the Glory of Heaven.  Aziraphale suppresses a laugh of hysteria at the thought and wonders if his multitude of sins can even be absolved anymore. Tries to decide if he even cares if they are.  

Decides it maybe only matters that Crowley will someday understand and perhaps Forgive him.

They move increasingly upward in a mildly awkward silence, and Aziraphale attempts to formulate a plan, his mind swirling with possibilities and a latent hope that he can still somehow salvage all of this.  After all, Aziraphale may be a bad angel of poor motive, but surely Heaven was just misguided and would see the real truth and light of the situation once he’d had time to explain it to them.  He’s going to stop the Second Coming, he resolves with a small but confident smile. 

Just as soon as he can get someone to tell him what and when it is.  

The Lift slows to a stop and the doors slid open soundlessly into the vast expanse of Heaven. No one is around, save a lone Archangel–fellow archangel now he supposes which feels surreal.  Michael arches a disdainful brow as Aziraphale and Metatron step off into the heavenly lobby with a soft click of shoes on tile even as she puts on a forced smile, 

“Ah, Aziraphale so glad to see you’ve agreed to the job.”

Aziraphale gives her a strained grin in return, slipping back into the vice of civility he has long cultivated to carry him through many a performance review pre-Armageddon. “Yes, so pleased to be here, really.”

Metatron claps him on the shoulder with a pleased chuckle, “Well I shall leave you in Michael’s capable hands, then.”

“Oh, well what about the Second…” he begins, but the Metatron is already turning to putter down the hall with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yes, yes, all in good time,” he calls out before disappearing around a corner. 

Aziraphale turns back to face Michael, her smile now soured into a downturned sneer, “Hmph, follow me I suppose.”  Twisting on her heel, she takes off in a direction that Aziraphale can only assume still leads to the offices of the Archangels at a brusque clip, forcing him to jog slightly to catch up.  

It’s endless rows after endless rows of white walls, windows, and desks.  No doors, no dividers–he’d forgotten it was Heaven and not Hell that had invented the open office floor plan.  Aziraphale finds it all disorienting to put it mildly, and a tired overwhelm lingers on the fringes of his brain as Michael prattles on endlessly through the halls about his new duties, expectations, and the array meetings they’ll need to get on his calendar.  

“...and then of course you’ll want to rid yourself of that corporation as soon as possible, I’m sure…,” which snaps his attention back to the present as they arrive at an empty corridor with a grand but blank office that he supposes is now his. 

“Of course,” he murmurs out of ingrained politeness.

“We can take care of it now if you’d prefer,” she offers with a raise of her hand, and then it all really does become too much.

“No!” he replies firmly, and it’s another sin to tally for his selfishness, but he can’t give up another thing today.  God forgive him; he’s already given up more than he can part with.  He straightens his stance and attempts to force as much of his newfound authority as he can muster into his voice as he continues,  “No thank you, Michael.  I’ll take care of it another day.”

“Well if you’re sure…” she begins, a perplexed frown forming lines on her forehead at his abrupt refusal.

“Yes, quite,” he interrupts, only capable of the slightest guilt at his potential rudeness as a profound exhaustion settles in around his temples, “I think I’d rather like some time just to settle in, if you please.”

She gives him a once over that suggests exactly how she feels about the lunacy of staying even one second longer than necessary in something as mundane as a body before rolling her eyes and giving an indifferent shrug, “Whatever. Suit yourself.”

Then she’s finally leaving him.  Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh and stares around aimlessly in the resulting quiet.  There is none of the ambient background noise he’s come to expect from everyday life, and he finds it sets his nerves on edge trying to anticipate sounds it’s sure must be there.  

Another bracing breath, and he crosses the empty expanse to the office space proper and lowers himself into the chair.  A shudder passes through him–maybe it’s the sheer weariness of his corporation, or some strange side-effect to a physical body being placed into the heavenly sphere, but it feels so much colder here than he remembers.  He tugs his jacket firmly around him, and wonders where he should start.  It suddenly feels like such a daunting task, trying to change the whole of Heaven.   

He closes his eyes resignedly and leans forward, pressing his forehead into the strange metal of the desk and attempts to sort through the day that has just wrought such chaos upon his life.  Wills himself to formulate a plan and not get lost in the what-ifs of grasping hands, pleading eyes, and us. Silence folds in around him, his eyes feel damp, and there is a hollow ache settling mournfully into his chest.

His lips burn; he brings a hand up to press absent-mindedly at their warmth.

[ninjasmart]

Thank you so much for that quick answer! I have recently started with meditation although not quite so long and it is those "guided" ones on YouTube. Do they also work or how would you recommend to meditate? I tried to call upon my spirit guides but it didn't work so I probably did it wrong, how do I call upon them and others in the right way? And one last follow up question how do I find my anchor? Thank you so much for taking you time :)

The best form of meditation is zhan zhuan or standing meditation. One hour a day.

However, if you are beginner, I would recommend lustening to mantras on youtube anx sungung them. Gregorian chants is also really good.

Do this to quiet your inner chatter. For some people meditations don't work because the inner chatter can't be switched off easily. For them - 1 hour mantras and then standing meditation.

One more step if you are the freeze type of trauma response. This is you if you scroll on social media to calm down. Or you immediately escape into a dream world of your own where everything is perfect unlike your reality.

For all types of childhood trauma (caused from abuse or neglect) this solution is good -with one caveat - but it is especially good for people with freeze response.

I'll start with the caveat. This meditation type is not ok for people with cluster A type of personality. It is not studies but I have seen it with my own eyes and I genuinely judge the person who was encouraging them to continue.

So, if you are cluster A or suspect it but don't want to be diagnosed, do tendons mobility exercises instead. In general, for everyone a tendons exercise is good and recomended. For people with trauma - focus on the lower back. And don't do the type of meditation exercises - it will cause a psychosis.

Now that the caveat is out of the way - the recomendation is osho dynamic meditation. I personally prefer the kundalini meditation as it is shaking meditation and this is absolutely lovely one for when you are stressed. The classic "hoo" meditation is also highly recommended. If you do it 21 days your cortisol levels will drop (the stress). But again, I'm lazy and I like the kundalini dynamic mexitation better. If you are the fight type of trauma response (for example - if pushed to your limits you yell), then do the "hooo" meditation.

As a form of quick and easy meditation you can use the 6 healing sounds too. There are videos how to do it.

As a recomendation - do not force yourself into calmness (meditation). Instead, build a habit of starting a meditative practice. Do that for 41 days and then start increasing the time.

You can do 1 minute mobility exercise daily. One minute kundalini meditation. One minute mantras. One minute standind meditation. Tie it up with something you are already doing. For example - you have the habit of going back home abd immediately going for the couch, do a one minute routine in the hallway, before you take your shoes off. Do this one to two times a day, every single day for 40 days and then start increasing the time to 2 minutes, then 3. But don't rush it. Connecting with your inner self is a beautiful thing and is worth the patience.

As for connecting with your guides - you call them, they are there. Simple as that. Build up your sensitivity to the invisible world and you will start noticing their presence better. But don't make it your goal.

One last thing. As a form of meditation you can do alternate nostril breathing as a form of meditation too. You can do rebirthing or breathwork always with an experienced practitioner as form of healing too.

But don't do kundalini yoga. And if you really really do - less than 7 minutes. See, this is a very powerful method to awaken your energetic body. But. But. It raises your energy too quickly and I have seen it with my own eyes how people instead of healing get short circuited and stuck. And lastly, yet another form of meditation is reading rosaries.